


The Ghost Next Door

by Equillibrium



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: And depression :(, Angst, Chara & Frisk (Undertale) Share a Body, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fluff, He sees a bit of himself in u ok, IE I'm not writing in all caps for papyrus and sans has proper punctuation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mages (Undertale) - Freeform, No typing quirks, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader has no defined gender, Reader is a mage, Reader is an empath, Reader's Soul is Orange, Recovery, Sans (Undertale) Doesn't Remember Resets, Sans is also recovering himself, Slow Burn, Slurs, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, There is a minor edit to canon that won't come into play for awhile, Undertale Saves and Resets, floweypot is gonna be a thing, reader can use magic, reader has anxiety, reader is unnamed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2020-10-24 20:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Equillibrium/pseuds/Equillibrium
Summary: Being a transmitting empath could be a fortunate ability. The power to send your emotions to others as you saw fit could open up a world of positive experiences and opportunities—at least, that would be the case if you could feel anything other than crippling depression and anxiety. By now you're resigned to your fate; you push everyone away just by existing. Why bother trying anymore?After your sister mysteriously disappeared five years ago, not even the world being turned on its head with the barrier breaking could take you out of your deep depression. It's your destiny to be unloved, and you're okay with that.That's what you thought, anyway. The one time you try to actively ward someone away, you end up becoming endeared, and you're not sure how to feel anymore. Maybe a ragtag group of friendly monsters and a persistent skeleton guy who knows just how to make you laugh was the therapy you needed. Along with, you know,actualtherapy.





	1. The Ghost(?) Next Door

**Author's Note:**

> My first UT fanfic in a while. I'm eager to hear opinions so far, as I have bright hopes for this fic! I don't have a beta reader and am open to the idea if anyone wants to shoot me a message. For now, enjoy, and look forward to a sporadic update schedule.

“With these papers signed,” Brenda flashed another award-winning fake but not unbearable smile as she spoke. “I am more than happy to present your new apartment keys. Yay!”

She clapped her hands excitedly and infectiously; Papyrus was practically bouncing in his chair with joy as she handed over his copy of the key.

“Why don’t we go try out the key fobs at the front door?” Brenda, the building manager, said as she stood, leading Sans and his brother out of the office. Brenda had a quick step, seemingly always chipper in the few previous times he’d met her, but even she wasn’t quick enough for Papyrus who was struggling not to run ahead of her in his excitement to do everything at once.

“So that’s it, huh?” Sans asked, already at the building’s entrance once Brenda turned the corner. She looked startled for a moment, before trying to keep her composure. “We’re officially moved in? There’s a surprising lack of hoops to jump through.”

“This is really it! Oh, I wish it was this easy for me… but what with this new initiative, and the tax break landlords receive by opting into it… Well, I’m just happy that everyone is able to acclimate so easily to a changing world. It’s nice isn’t it? The bulk of the paperwork is done, but if you give your move in date, I’m sure we can unlock the maintenance elevator.”

“Wowie… who could believe governments could be so kind!” Papyrus said, still hopping on his feet as Brenda stopped at the door.

“Well, there’s first time for everything!” She said, laughing as if she’d said the funniest thing on earth.

“Anyhoo,” She moved to the door, opening it with a click before ushering the two of them outside. She quickly showed them how to have guests use the callboxes, and showed them the number on the back of their electronic keys in case they forgot or lost their keys. With a click, the door buzzed open once their keys were pressed against it, and Brenda finished up her explanation.

“Is there anything else I can help you two boys with?” She asked eagerly.

“Yeah, actually, I have a question for ya.” Sans said, noticing idly that his brother had wondered off and was seemingly surveying the street.

“I think I’ve already asked this one a million times, but let’s shoot for a million and two.” He said with a shrug, continuing. “The people in the building, and uh, the neighborhood… they’re cool, right?”

At first Brenda blinked at him, before she caught on, her smile beaming back at full.

“We pride ourselves on a loving and accepting environment—not just this building, but this neighborhood! Even before the barrier broke, we’ve never had any major instances of strife. All of the tenants are kind people and I assure you that everyone is perfectly cool with the changes in the neighborhood.”

“Cool, huh? I was hoping it would be more ice cold.”

“Ha! What a card, love it!” Brenda laughed her hardest. Papyrus was back over once more, this time with another person. Two seconds out on the street and his brother had apparently made a new friend—he wasn’t too shocked.

“Sans, you won’t believe this!” Papyrus yelled—well it was more his indoor voice, but he was always on the loud setting.

“What is it, bro?” He asked, though he didn’t even need to take a guess.

“I’ve already managed to make an ally from our floor.” Papyrus said.

“You’re right. I don’t believe it at all.” Sans said, deadpanning a smile as his brother groaned.

“Carlos! I see you’ve already met Papyrus. Carlos is our apartment’s esteemed artistic resident. Sans, Carlos. Carlos, Sans.”

“Please, Brenda, you flatter me.” The older man said, laughing as he offered his hand to shake. Ah, fresh meat.

“Wait!” Papyrus tried, but it was too late.

Sans proudly offered his hand back, and immediately a loud farting noise resounded throughout the street.

“Classic—” Sans had to speak over his brother’s groaning. “—Whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It never gets old.”

“I remember that…” Brenda recalled belatedly, meanwhile Carlos was laughing.

“A man of humor; that’s something I can always respect.” Carlos said jovially. “All jokes aside, though, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation you two were having.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Brenda asked, smile slipping ever so slightly.

“You know… about tenants.” Carlos said, hinting at something. Suddenly Brenda’s smile was completely gone as she seemed to recall something.

“Oh… that’s right, how could I forget? There is… one tenant that seems to be… Well, I don’t know how to put this.”

Oh boy. Here it comes. No such thing as a happy ending, Sans thought with a depressed internal sigh.

“I’ve hardly met them after signing over the lease, and I’m not supposed to speak ill of our tenants specifically but… well, this person I just can’t describe them in any way other than gloomy. There’s just no positive light to shine.”

“Gloom and doom? Surely they can’t be all bad…” Papyrus chimed in.

“Well, they pay their rent on time, but they hardly leave their apartment. I don’t think I’ve seen them since we signed the lease over a year ago! I haven’t had a reason to speak to them, and none of the other tenants have lodged a complaint. To put it simply, if you’re lucky, you won’t see much of them anyway.”

“Great, then I guess there’s no problem.” Sans said, though he was sure that wasn’t going to be the case. Even after all this, after making it to the surface, he still couldn’t pull the optimistic shtick off.

“Great! I’ll leave you two to it, then. I need to finish faxing over these papers, but the apartment is officially ready for you to move into.”

“We’ll bring all of our things in bright and early tomorrow morning!” Papyrus announced.

Brenda was quick to promise she’d unlock the maintenance elevator first thing in the morning, but she was even quicker to rush inside the building. Sans decided he wouldn’t think much of it, and was about to wave goodbye to Carlos and go head back to where he and Papyrus were crashing with the queen, but the former stopped to the two of them.

“Hey, uh I have something to tell you two.” Carlos lowered his voice, leaning in as if he were about to tell a secret.

“Ooh, a secret! I’ll keep it especially safe, human neighbor Carlos.” Papyrus whispered. Well, he attempted to. Instinctively, Sans leaned in as well.

“Brenda seemed to forget to mention it, but that ‘tenant’ just so happens to ‘live’ on our floor.”

“That seems like a pretty important detail to leave out.” Sans muttered, unable to hold back on the bitterness, and too busy being pessimistic to notice the strange emphasis on ‘tenant’ and ‘live.’

“You think? And here’s why—well, I can’t prove it, but here’s my theory. Management seems to want her to keep on the down-low when talking about that that person, and here’s why; no one really ‘lives’ there.”

Sans and Papyrus both leveled the man with a skeptical head tilt of confusion.

“You know, like it’s haunted!” Carlos said.

Now, a couple of weeks on the surface, and most monsters realized that human ‘ghosts’ and monster ghosts were two different categories. The distinction still went over his head for the most part, but the biggest seemed to be that human ghosts were a thing largely of skepticism. Then again, at one point, humans on the surface seemed to think monsters were a topic of skepticism, so who was to say? Sans still wasn’t sure how to approach the topic; he and his brother had surely scared the living daylights out of plenty of humans for a similar reason—humans hated things related to death, despite their violent nature. But most monsters did, so, he wasn’t too special in that category.

“Now, friend Carlos, you have to be more accepting than this. I’m ashamed of you!” Papyrus shook his head, tsking slightly, and Carlos flushed a deep red out of embarrassment.

“What? Oh, n-no, I didn’t mean it in that manner. I guess there are different meanings to… a-anyway, something bad probably happened in that apartment, and management wants to cover it up! You know, keep it on the hush-hush. You’ll know what I mean when you see that door. It’s been a year but it still gives me the creeps.”

“That’s, uh, good information. We’ll keep our eye sockets peeled.” Sans said, trying to dissipate the tension.

“Ha! I sure hope so. Either way, welcome to the apartment. It’s, er, not all doom and gloom, but I just figured it was a fair warning.”

With that said and done, they parted ways, though his neighbor’s warning stuck to the back of Sans’s mind.

\- - -

There were three apartments on this floor, counting yours. It wasn’t a very big apartment building—six floors, three apartments each floor, with yours being the fifth floor. Your apartment was in the middle; in front of you was the stairwell, and just beyond that to the said was the elevator. To your right and left were two apartments and… to be frank, you couldn’t remember who lived there, let alone if they were occupied at all. But at least one of them had to be empty, because someone was moving in today.

You’re not usually up early. Your sleeping habits had turned all but nocturnal; it was the easiest way to avoid people. Plus it’s not like you had a job or went to school. But when the floor nearly shook at the impact of something huge just outside your apartment door, loathe though you were to do it, you got out of bed.

There were a few more banging noises, though they sounded more controlled and coordinated this time, followed by voices and talking. You put your face flush against the door and used your peephole, watching the sight outside.

There was a tall and muscular fish woman carrying an entire racecar shaped bed on her shoulders with apparent ease. Next to her were two people, a short yellow reptilian looking monster who was beaming up at her and a skeleton who was holding out his hands, making sure the bed wasn’t going to fall, though it looked to be in vain. Someone was sitting on the landing to the stairs—a shorter skeleton guy in a blue hoodie and sweater who seemed to be doing absolutely nothing.

“You guys are hardly breaking a sweat. Put some more _backbone_ into it.” You could hear the shorter skeleton say through your door. The large fish woman turned, swinging the bed around and causing the taller one to duck, just so she could level him with an unamused glare.

“Careful please! It’s my only bed.” The tall skeleton said worriedly.

“Oh please, I’m handling it with velvet scales. I could juggle this thing if I wanted to, you know!” The tall the fish woman bellowed, flashing a toothy grin.

“I know, Undyne! You’ve demonstrated several times.” The skeleton said, appearing to sweat despite an apparent lack of skin.

“I could juggle you too!” The woman, Undyne, continued, visible eye narrowing.

“You’ve demonstrated that, too!”

“Not enough times! C’mere!”

With expert precision, Undyne wielded the bed like a cup and scooped the tall skeleton onto the bed.

“Th-The ceiling, Undyne! There isn’t enough room.” The lizard woman piped up, reaching up to stop Undyne.

“You lucked out today.” She said, stopping her assault and opted to just begin bench pressing the bed instead.

There was. A lot going on outside your door. A well of anxiety began to build up within you, just the mere idea that there were new people in the building—on your floor—and that they might want to speak to you.

It filled you with horrible dread.

Suddenly everyone outside stopped their antics.

“Jeez, you weren’t kidding, were you?” The fish woman set the bed down with a plop, along with the skeleton on top.

“Y-Yeah, just looking at that d-d-door is making me nervous.” The reptilian monster said, wringing her hands as eyes began flickering towards your door.

Whoops, it happened again. You reigned it back in taking, a deep breath to keep anything else from slipping out. You heard a sound from the stairwell and turned to look—but not before jumping out of your skin. The shorter skeleton who had been sitting on the landing to the upper floor was looking at your door with an intense stare, and it seemed as if he had been for a while. Part of you wondered if he knew you were standing there watching like some sort of creep but you willed away the worry, knowing that no one else had responded save for when you let your anxiety leak out.

But that wasn’t the noise that initially startled you. Someone new was ascending the stairs—two new someones, in fact. Ah, you actually recognized this person.

Even though you were practically living under a rock, the rock had some airholes—that being your phone and your seldom trips outside. You could recognize the de facto queen of monsters, Toriel.

You heard about her after the initial news of the barrier breaking four months ago. The king of monsters’ former queen was a better ruler than he, and even though she refused to take up the mantle it was rumored that she was running things behind the scenes. It was likely one of the reasons why you had new monster neighbors to begin with; she had to have been securing places and homes for monsters despite the bigotry and unrest directed their way. Another figure was on the steps, too, though you couldn’t see them until they put down the weird conveniently-shaped lamp they were holding. It was just a kid… but yet another celebrity. Jeez, were all the people moving in next friends with every beacon of monster hope? Considering these were the only two you knew of, it seemed likely. Still, why was the lauded child ambassador for monsters in your apartment as well?

“My, it’s quite chilly up here, isn’t it?” The queen said, setting down the stack of boxes in her hand.

“There’s a human ghost across the hall.” Undyne stated in a matter-of-fact manner. You blinked. She… she wasn’t referring to you, was she…?

“Well, we’ll have to give them a warm welcome won’t we?” Toriel said, despite her nervous glance towards your door.

“N-N-No way! Human ghosts are w-w-way different than monster ghosts. If my, uh, ‘research’ is correct, than they probably won’t want _any_ kind of w-welcoming.”

You didn’t quite like being referred to as a ghost. Where was any of this coming from, anyway? You knew you were a recluse, it wasn’t exactly news to anyone, but your title of ghost wasn’t a familiar one.

A flash of movement coming from the only other human—you remembered their name as ‘Frisk’—and you realized they had been signing something. You belatedly translated, dragging up the sign language you’d learned as a child from months of on and off nonverbal episodes, and realized they’d said:

‘We won’t know unless we try.’

And they were suddenly at your door.

You jumped back, holding in a gasp as they knocked firmly on the door. Tiptoeing quickly, you made your way away from the front door and hid in the upstairs loft area-turned bedroom. That was enough of that for now.

-

No answer.

Well, it was worth a shot.

“Young one!”

Above the chorus of exclamations, Toriel’s reigned supreme as she marched over to weigh them with a disapproving motherly glare.

Frisk turned around, shrugging with a bashful look as their cheek was pinched.

“You should know better than to knock on unfamiliar doors.” Toriel chided them gently.

“Yeah, punk, what would you do if they actually answered?” Undyne asked, meandering over to give Frisk a playfully noogie.

‘Flirt.’

“No!” Toriel and Undyne said in unison, much to the amusement of everyone else.

“Eh, don’t sweat it, kid.” Sans appeared next to Frisk, also ganging in on the playful noogie-ing, to Frisk’s chagrin. “With your flirting skills, I’m sure you’ll _knock_ ‘em out of the park.”

There was laughter and groans around the floor in response to his pun and the figurative _badumtiss_ that followed it up. Frisk allowed themselves to smile as well, though they were unable to stop sending worried glances towards the door behind them.

-

Sans watched as his brother zipped throughout the loft, upstairs and down, exclaiming ‘Wowie!’ every two steps. It was later at night now; once all of their things had been moved in, Toriel baked one of her famous butterscotch-cinnamon pies. Nothing could beat a tasty magical meal—nothing at all since it was the only kind of food he and his brother could eat. Sans had been hopeful for left overs; contrary to popular belief he actually baked every once in a while, but with six people to go around there was only one slice left of the gigantic pie. Now, their new little home was quiet, and Papyrus was somehow able to adventure through the surprisingly spacious loft. It was a smidgen smaller than their old home, with the upstairs being one entire room with a bathroom, and the other room being down near the living room. It was by no means a mansion, yet somehow his brother managed to make an actual exploration expedition.

“Sans! It’s a real one! An actual _toilet_.”

“Yup, buddy, humans have a lot of those.” Sans called from downstairs, a little distractedly.

“What are you doing down there?” His brother’s voice called down from the balcony, and Sans looked up to see his brother’s smiling face, and returned one of his own.

“Setting up this TV.” Sans flicked the antenna with his forefinger bone, and miraculously, the static cleared.

“Of course the only time you do work is to set up something lazy!” His brother huffed

He was about to retort with a one liner, but speedy footsteps down the stairs caught him off guard.

“Come with me!” Papyrus said, gesturing towards the door

“Where we going, bro?” Sans asked, abandoning the television as he eyed brother suspiciously.

“I want to introduce ourselves to our new neighbor.” Papyrus announced.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea.” Sans went over every bad scenario that could possibly happen, but he brought up the most likely one. “Doesn’t seem like they’re much for chatting.”

“Maybe they weren’t here earlier? And they’re home now!” Papyrus countered.

Sans had his… doubts. But upon seeing his brother so excited—or rather after dealing with the excitement all day, amplified as it was now that they were on the surface—he lost the energy to turn him down.

“Eh, why not? What kinda neighbor doesn’t make a persistent attempt to bother one another?”

“That’s the spirit!” Papyrus skipped past him, opening up the fridge and surprising him by pulling out the last slice of pie left over. “Let’s make a good impression. The queen bakes almost as good as I make spaghetti.”

“I can’t argue that logic.” Sans said with a shrug, following his brother out of their apartment. What was the worst that could happen? Best case scenario, two seconds out of his naptime are gone and it appeases his brother. Worst case scenario? Well, he’d never let anything bad happen, anyway.

Once they stood in front of the door, Papyrus cleared his throat with an exaggerated ahem, straightening his back and holding the plate of pie carefully. Then, he knocked.

Then, they both felt it.

A wave of dread and unease washed over Sans, and he suddenly felt flighty, taking a step back alongside his brother. Looking up to his brother, with his equally uneasy expression, he knew he wasn’t imagining things. Panic alarms were going off—danger, leave, get away now—and he wondered two things in that instant: 1. Was this place _really_ haunted?! 2. Just how bad are human ghosts, anyway?

But just as soon as the feeling came over him, it was gone, and everything was back to normal.

“Perhaps… the human is… sleeping?” Papyrus said slowly after moment.

Click!

The door in front of them opened.

Yikes.

Through the crack of the door, keeping it from opening any further with a chain lock, a single eye peered down at them from the darkness.

Past inhibitions seemingly forgotten, Papyrus didn’t miss a beat.

“Hello!” He said the moment the door opened.

“Ah!”

The door shut closed with a slam, causing his brother to jump.

There was a beat of silence, before Papyrus rubbed the back of his head, seemingly crestfallen.

“…Maybe next time, buddy.” Sans said, looking at his brother as he visibly deflated.

Then, not even a second later, the door opened. This time the chain was gone.

-

Your heart skipped a beat once you heard the knocking.

It was that time of the month again, wasn’t it? It was _her_ again. An awful sense of unease and dread crept up upon you, and you could feel it slip out, like hungry tendrils, before you stamped the sensation back in. You knew how much she hated that.

You’d only been living the apartment for a year and a half, yet every month almost religiously, she would come and demand the money the government was giving you. The funny part was?

You would obediently hand it over. Not all of it; you kept enough for rent and the meager few groceries you bought. It didn’t matter much to you. It kept her off your case. You didn’t get along with your mother very well, but with your sister missing… she was the only family you had right now. Because you were too depressed to care, and because of the inner fear that your sister might not return, you set aside your hatred to help out the woman who’d made your childhood a living hell.

You opened the door, forgetting for a moment about the chain lock.

“Hello!”

You did a double take, surprised not to see your mother’s mean mug or hear her yelling. Instead, you caught sight of your new neighbors—the skeletons you had been spying on earlier in the morning.

“Ah!” You uttered a small, ungraceful yelp and shut the door out of shock. No… no, that was incredibly rude. Even if you weren’t expecting them, even if you wouldn’t have answered the door if you knew it was them and not your mother, it was too late and too rude to back out now.

“I meant… hello?” You opened the door with the chain undid this time, standing next to the doorframe and trying to look and appear like a normal person.

“H-Hello again!” The taller skeleton spoke now, cheek bones up in what you assumed to be a smile. “It is a pleasure for you to meet me, new neighbor. Allow me to introduce ourselves. I am The Great Papyrus, and this is my brother, Sans.”

Papyrus struck a pose, a wind seeming to pick up his scarf causing it to flutter. You were too caught up in bemusement to let your social anxiety creep in, merely wondering why someone so chipper would bother to knock on your door.

“Come on, bro, you’re doing it all wrong.” Papyrus had his posing interrupted by his brother. Sans, wasn’t it? “There’s only one surefire way I know how to greet a new pal.”

He extended his hand, and you felt your breathing falter. It took every nerve in your body not to let the anxiety welling up within you escape on a day-to-day basis. You kept your emotions wrapped around yourself, still perceptible but horribly strong. But if you ever had a strong spike of emotion, they could surge out and affect anyone in range. You would be fine on a good day, so long as no one came too close. But a handshake? That was a thing you couldn’t control. If you concentrated, you could be fine around people, even fine in a crowd. But you could do nothing if you let someone touch you. They would be able to feel every disgusting emotion that was within you, no matter what you did to hide it. You could imagine the duo’s smiling faces in front of you, contorting into disgust or even hatred once they saw the tempest of weakness brewing within. God, no, you could not take his hand.

“Um! I-It’s a pleasure to meet you, b-but please forgive my rudeness but I have to go now. Excuse me.”

You tried your best to keep your voice normal but your sentences were curt and wavering, betraying your fear. Quickly, before anything else could be said, you shut the door and hurried upstairs.

-

There was a beat of silence. Sans was still standing there, hand outstretched.

Then, the last thing he could have ever expected to happen happened; Papyrus burst out into laughter.

“Heh! Nyeh heh heh!”

“What’s so funny?” Sans asked stiffly, to which his brother responded with more chuckling.

“Why, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone turn down your handshakes. It’s so refreshing! This human, I like them already.”

Well, that went about as well as it could have gone. At the very least, Papyrus was happy, even though you hadn’t accepted the plate of pie.

Truth be told, Sans didn’t use the whoopee cushion trick on everyone just because he liked the joke. Don’t get it twisted, he firmly believed it will _never_ get old, but he had a hidden talent; he was an excellent judge of character. It may not seem like a worthy talent, but being able to judge someone by the merit of their soul was something he kind of prided himself on. Monsters were fairly easy; being made of magic they always wore their hearts on their sleeves, so to speak. It was child’s play for even someone with passing knowledge of soul wavelengths to get a good read on even the cagiest of monsters. Humans, on the other hand? As he’d learned early on through chance, he got a better read on a person if he could touch them. After that, through careful observation of watching a nine year old stumble through and eventually free the underground, he discovered that humans could be just as easy to read.

But the initial touch helped.

You, now? He could barely get anything from the crack through the door, let alone a refused handshake. Needless to say his first impression wasn’t positive, even if Papyrus was leaving in high spirits. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was living next to someone he knew squat about, but if your reclusive nature was a tendency, then he hoped no trouble would come his way.


	2. A Good Second Impression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the tags, suicidal thoughts and ideations apply for this chapter. Stay safe readers, and I wish you the best.

A couple of days went by with no drama or incidents. Almost a week and a semblance of normalcy.

Papyrus had a pretty steady job. Though he wasn’t leader of the Royal Guard, he _was_ in charge of training people. He coached at a local gym. Sans was happy when someone actually answered his brother’s ad two months ago, when they were still acclimating to the surface. One session turned into several which turned into his brother actually having dedicated clients. He was a damn good coach, actually; he was optimistic and cheerful and had nigh infinite physical stamina. Monsters only really tired themselves out when they used magic, though being a skeleton certainly helped in that department. Sans was happy—truly he was, even though he knew most of these human clients saw his brother as a novelty. It took him awhile to stop trailing his brother to make sure nothing happened. Papyrus could handle himself just fine, but on the inverse, he also wouldn't hurt a fly.

So, during the day, Sans was left to his own devices. And most of the time that meant doing absolutely nothing all day. It was pretty great.

Papyrus had stopped pressuring him nearly as much to get a job and stop being lazy. Even though fear still loomed in the back of his mind, even though he would never forget his research, the unsolved anomaly, even though he thought the surface didn’t appeal to him anymore… He felt strangely content now. And he didn’t feel the need to bury his feelings away under the pretense of random jobs to hide his true laziness. Now he just wanted to lazy without the nagging guilt. He wasn’t feeling nearly as bad as he was before, and Papyrus was no idiot. So, for the most part, his brother let him be.

And today was going to be yet another lazy day, watching PBS kids because it was one of the few channels their rinky-dink antenna television received. It was a huge step up from the two channels the underground had, but he knew what was out there, and being fed crumbs when there was a feast one table over didn’t feel great. Still though, you get what you get and you don’t get upset. So PBS kids it was.

And besides, he was only half watching it. For the most part, he was dozing off—and no, this wasn’t your run of the mill depression nap! It was a peaceful and lazy “I’m doing nothing” nap. There was a difference, even if the line was blurred.

Did he mention today was going to be lazy? Well it was. That was his plan.

Until he heard the banging.

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

It sounded like someone was trying to hammer a nail with their hands. At first he almost mistook it for Undyne’s peculiar way of knocking, until he realized it wasn’t coming from their door. That legally meant it didn’t _have_ to be his problem. He let himself calm down, sighing, hoping to god this wasn’t going to be—

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

The noise continued, followed this time by a persistent yelling. Sans got off the couch, cursing under his breath as he walked to the door. The peephole was, frustratingly, just out of his height, so he was forced to hoist himself onto the kitchen counter and lean over to get a good look. Just outside, knocking on the door of their ‘maybe a ghost maybe a human’ neighbor was an older human woman. She looked fuming as she continued banging on the door, yelling something loudly.

It was quiet flicker, a flash of blue in his left eye, and Sans had opened a quick shortcut. All so he didn’t have to bother with the noise of the door opening.

“…for nothing, lazy selfish brat… You’d better not be dead in there!” The woman was muttering under her breath, tapping her foot impatiently.

“’Sup.”

“Jesus!”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling around to face him with a shocked expression.

“What in the… are you… Ugh.” She gave him a terrified look, before it recovered into a disdainful glare. Oh, boy. Oh boy _oh boy_. Sans could already tell he was going to dislike this woman.

“Who the hell do you think you are, sneaking up on me? Can I _help_ you?” She asked in a voice that meant she had no intention of truly offering any form of help.

“Aw, come on, that’s no way to greet a person,” Sans said, though his usually joviality was gone. He didn’t need to shake this woman’s hand if she was going to display her true colors right off the bat. He didn’t even bother extending his hand. As he was speaking, however, he could hear hurried footsteps rushing towards the door.

There it was again.

A sense of dread washed over him, a brief spike that was gone the moment it happened. This time, however, something was different. It was more sorrowful.

The lights in his eyes darted around, searching for the source of danger as he calmed down. It happened too quick to linger, the sudden uncomfortable feeling, but his anxiety at having felt it didn’t leave him.

“I’m here, I’m here.” A voice called out as the door open. The woman in front of him didn’t hesitate as she manhandled the door open, sending Sans a vicious glare before slamming the door shut. The yelling didn’t pick back up, but whoever was speaking was loud enough for him to hear the muffled noise.

What a card.

He wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, let alone whether or not he _needed_ to make anything of it. Part of him told him that it was none of his damn business if his neighbor and their visitors were rude as all hell, but another part of him said that the thinking could get him hurt. For a human it might be fine to live next door to someone you knew nothing about, but for monsters? For every good human, there seemed to be an equally bad one. He’d feel safer knowing you weren’t going to be a threat.

He sighed, turning back towards his apartment. This wasn’t the underground. He couldn’t play by his own rules anymore. Usually he was more than happy to watch and wait, but now that he was forced to actually wait for something to happen, it felt like agony on the mind.

-

“God it’s a fucking mess in here.” Your mother said, shouldering past you. You personally didn’t think it was too bad, but said nothing.

“How about the next time I knock on the door you don’t drag your feet, hm? What’s with this neighborhood filling up with freaks, one of them tried to speak to me.”

You shivered, biting back the pang of bitterness at her bigotry; she likely ran into one of your neighbors. And if they’d seen her going into your apartment? Who knows what they thought of you now. It was alright, you supposed. You had no intention of getting close to anyone here.

“I take the time out of my day to come check on you and you can’t even be bothered to greet me properly? Does family mean nothing to you?”

“Sorry.” Her words stung, but it wasn’t the worst. She knew what she was doing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“With how you’ve been acting, I keep wondering if you’re just going to be keeled over in the apartment when I stop by. Then how am I supposed to pay rent? Step outside your little bubble for a moment and think about other people, would you?”

“I’m fine.” You reassure her, but she likely is taking your interjections with a grain of salt.

“Oh, hush. I knew you were fine. You sent me the money already, so I wasn’t _really_ worried. It’s kind of me to stop by here, isn’t it? Without me around this place would fall apart, and you’d be kicked out onto the street. You could try saying thank you every once in a while. I’m the only family you have left.”

This one was like a punch to the gut, but it was not unprecedented. You reigned in your emotions, and obediently barked a “Thank you, mom.”

“Just get out of my way, already. Go upstairs, why don’t you? I’m going to get started down here.”

She shooed you away dismissively, pleased with herself. You went upstairs to your bedroom proper, plopping down onto your bed as you willed the tears to stay back. Trying to remember the breathing exercises that were taught to you so many months ago, you fished out your earbuds and tried to lose yourself to the music.

This was just a normal occurrence, really. Every month, she’d drop by and make sure you were obediently sending her money. When you moved out, you had done it with the sole intention of isolating yourself, if not to simply get away from her. Though she visited, it was a step up from living under the same roof with her. You could manage this behavior every once in awhile, but on a daily basis? God, sometimes she would drive you past your breaking point. She would always bring this up—your sister’s disappearance—and lord it over you: the fact that she was your only family member left, whether you liked it or not. It was the only reason why you could up with your previous, and sort of current, abuser.

Your sister had been a beacon of hope for you. When you were just seven, and she twelve, it was her who called CPS on your mother with insurmountable evidence. But at it came at a heavy price. She had been brave in your eyes back then, but upon hindsight you realized she had been equally young and naïve. Over the years, from foster home to foster home, nothing truly changed, the physical and emotional abuse was just carried out by different people. Eventually, your mother vied for custody once more, at ten years old, when you were finally learning to speak again, neither of you fought it.

You two had just hoped that, when you were adults, it would come to an end.

Fat chance.

You had been listening to an artist for hours, just staring off into space and daydreaming to the music, that you nearly jumped out of your skin once the song ended. Rough footsteps ascended the stairs, dredging up painful memories from your childhood and teen years, before you stamped them back down. The next song started up, and you could barely hear your mother’s annoyed voice, though you knew what she was saying. You moved out of her way, heading downstairs to rest on the couch there.

The place was a lot cleaner than you could have made it, you have to admit. Dishes were washed, trash was bagged and set up by the door, with the floor swept in mopped.

Ignoring the barbs meant to eat at your guilt, one might almost believe she was a good mother. If people didn’t know that she had once starved you and your sister for days on end, had repeatedly burnt you with cigarette butts when you were child for ‘looking at her weird’, or just plain beaten the two of you within inches of your lives, they might think she wasn’t so bad.

She wasn’t trying to hit you now, but that didn’t mean she held an ounce of love for you in her heart. She wasn’t trying to hit you now, but that didn’t mean you could ever forgive her.

Yet still, you put up with her presence.

-

A couple of hours pass, and finally, she’s out of your house. The sky is dark by now, the day having gone by quicker than you’re used to. She spends most of her time gravitating between the upstairs and the down stairs, seeing how many passive-aggressive remarks you could put up with. You could deal with them just fine, it was better than before, but at the end of the day you just wanted her gone. She had her money, and she was only here to guilt and endear herself. Eventually, she got message too, and your loft apartment was empty once more.

_Finally_, you could cry in peace.

You hated when she came over. You would be satisfied if she could simply accept the money you gave her—the money that didn’t even belong to her—and leave. But she needed to make these visits, to make sure you weren’t going to skimp out, and to rub it in your face that one person who ever cared about you, the person who never hated you because of your ability, was more than likely dead. Out of the two of you, you know that she hated your sister the most for being a thorn every step of the way, for always defying her and for never backing down in the face of her abuse. And… for always lifting you up, and keeping you motivated.

Now she was gone—missing off the face of the earth. You had your theories but, in the end, you had to come to terms. It’s been over five years; the likelihood that she was coming back was slim to none, and you still didn’t know what to do. You were just finishing high school when she disappeared, and she had finished her first degree. More than the grief that your sister was dead, though—more than any of that was the lack of closure. They never found a body, and you were never able to give her a proper burial. 

You stepped out onto your balcony, looking down at the quiet, nearly empty street below. Here, on nights like these when there was no one to watch you, you could let everything out. You could stop holding in your powers and let them project whatever you wanted as you tried to cry at least some of the pain away.

You let your arms hang over the balcony, looking out over the distant roof tops as your vision began to blur.

Being this high up, you had considered it on more than one occasion. Landing just right, it could all be over; you were on the fifth floor after all. But what if your sister was still out there, waiting to find you, or for you to find her? How disappointed would she be to find out that you couldn’t last two seconds on your own. You couldn’t do that to her.

So instead, you just let the barrier holding everything in collapse, and you cried.

It wasn’t even dramatic sobbing, just tears rolling down your face while every negative thought, every reminder that your life was going nowhere, coalesced into one. You don’t have the energy to do much more than that, not anymore.

You could feel it radiating around you. People didn’t have to be very close to you to feel your emotions; if you let it go unchecked like this, one glance from afar and no one would want to be around you. It was why everyone hated you. No matter what you tried, no matter how nice you could be, how neutral you could be, people trusted their gut. And when all you radiated was anxiety, despair, and bitterness? No one wanted to be around that. Even if you kept everything from leaking out in full force, it still surrounded you. At a glance, you simply made people uneasy.

“Hey.”

You gasped, head shooting up and in an instant you reigned everything back in. You searched for a second before snapping your head to your right—the balcony right next to you.

Standing there, his nonchalant façade slipping ever so slightly, was your next door neighbor—the short skeleton guy named Sans who you’d brushed off the other day. And now he’d seen you cry, and seen your aura at max strength. Could the day get any better?

You turned away to dry your eyes. All the while you were trying to calm your racing heart and the pangs of anxiety that began to chew over the despair, stamping it all down and back behind the mask so as not to make matters worse.

When you didn’t say anything, still turned away, he continued to speak.

“So. Are you okay?”

You looked up at him, a dry expression as your eyes were still likely puffy and bleary from tears.

“Peachy.” You shouldn’t be so rude, a voice in the back of your head reminded. It was a constant flux of wanting to at least be courteous but also not caring what people thought of you. Part of you wanted to hold onto the encouragement your sister always gave you, that good people will breed good feelings so long as you’re good right back to them. But lately those words were ringing hollow. This guy, Sans however, had the decency to at least ask you how you were after seeing you cry. He seemed nervous, likely an aftermath of having negative emotions blasted his way like a solar flare. The fact that he was even holding onto any propriety and not running for the hills was admirable.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine.” You said, idly making sure your face was dry.

“S’no worry. You, uh, don’t need to apologize.” He said quickly, the lights in his eyes darting away nervously.

You mumble a noise that could probably be construed as an “okay,” and you’re only a breath away from turning and heading back inside when he speaks up again.

“Do ya want to talk about whatever it is?”

Your hand freezes on the door knob and you turn towards him, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice.

“Talk about it? I’m your neighbor… you could pretend you never saw anything and no one would blame you.”

“I can’t argue that logic. Wait, yes I can. Here’s a counterpoint for ya; I’m not an asshole. I dunno what kind of people you’re used to, but I’m not gonna brush someone off after seeing them cry their eyes out.”

You feel a bit of guilt ebb at you, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you brush it aside. It’s not like this is the first time this scene has played out.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t wanna, but I do have a question for ya.” He continues when you don’t speak up. He takes one of his hands out of the pockets of his hoodie. “Sorry if it’s rude, but I’m also curious.” He gestures your way. “What is all that?”

“…What’s all what?” You responded, quickly glancing down at yourself. Was there something on your shirt?

“I mean… Is that a thing you can do on purpose?” He asked, and you felt a shiver run down your back. At first the implication doesn’t sink in, and then it does. He couldn’t have been referring to your power… Could he? That shouldn’t be your first suspicion but the more you thought about the more likely it was. He was monster—they were literally made of magic. And if the scant few facts you’d been told about yourself were true, this ability relied on the trace amounts of magic that remained on the surface after the war. You hadn’t thought too hard about the implications of how monsters being back on the surface would impact your powers, it’s not like you thought you’d get the opportunity to meet any if you kept yourself in perfect seclusion. But now it begged the question that you hadn’t thought of:

Was it a secret worth keeping anymore? You knew that this ‘power’ of yours was abnormal, and you knew the name for yourself—the government called you mages. It was why they funneled you a lump sum of money once a month; to keep you quiet, lest the masses lose their minds. But now, with monsters on the surface and other mages stepping forth in arms, you weren’t sure if it was a secret worth keeping anymore.

Still, you decided to play dumb.

“Cry? Sometimes.” You said, averting your gaze and getting ready to head back inside and escape this embarrassment.

“I think you know that’s not quite what I meant.” His voice calls out, stopping you.

“…Does it matter?” You ask, letting the question mean both things. Does it matter that you’re avoiding the answer? Does it matter whether or not you’re doing it on purpose? Your hand is on the balcony doorway now, and you’re about to head back inside when he calls out once more.

“So that’s it, huh? You don’t even want to _try_ and get to know us?”

You stopped yet again, and couldn’t help the guilt and confusion that clouded your mind.

“I’m not… it’s nothing against _you!_ I’m sure you and your brother are good people but… Why… Why on _earth_ would you want to get to know _me?_” You ask, almost incredulous as your mind runs over the facts.

“Give me a good reason why not, then?” He crossed his arms, Cheshire grin turning wry as he leaned against the balustrade. You let out a dry laugh.

“I can give you several; I’m the creepy person who lives next door, right? I’m sure the housing manager told you about me… the weirdo who never talks and never leaves. The… the _ghost_ next door.”

He sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, and this time he’s the one to look away with slight guilt.

“You got me there. But I like to think I’m a pretty observant skeleton, and a great judge of character to boot. Even if you _are_ allergic to handshakes, you haven’t proven to me that you’re not a person worth knowing.”

Wasn’t that enough, though? It was one thing to dismiss word of mouth, but another to have it confirmed by your own experiences. You’d seen people lauded as the pinnacle of morality, people who were trusted and known to be the nicest people, only to have them turn their nose up at you and file you away as an undesirable. Who did he think he was, and what exactly was he trying to prove?

“But… Even now, looking at me, don’t you get a sense of unease? Hell, it seems like no one likes even looking at my _door_. If I were you, I’d just trust my gut on this one. I can’t stop you if you write me off as the creepy next door neighbor, nor would I blame you.”

He’s silent for a little while, closing his eyes in a way that has you curious about how that was even possible, before he sighed and stood up straight.

“Hey, come on now, give me some credit here! Maybe I wasn’t even able to make a proper judgement call the first time we met. Maybe,”

He stepped forward towards the edge of his balcony before extending his hand.

“We can start over?”

You looked over at his hand. If you stepped towards the edge, you could probably reach him. It would be no issue.

“I… don’t think that’s a good idea.” You said, letting out a long deflating sigh. “Trust me, there have been so, so many people I wanted to start over with but… It never really worked. Whatever that first thought you had about me—I can guarantee you aren’t going to change your mind about it.”

“There you go again, assuming I’ve already decided not to like you. You’d be surprised what happens when you try.”

He gestures at his hand, and for a second, you consider taking it. Your fingers twitch, and the white lights in his eyes jump to the movement before you catch yourself, remembering the anxiety bubbling in you like a scornful brew. One touch and he’d be scalded by it, sealing whatever hope there might have been.

“_I can’t shake your hand_.” You hold your arm down, as if your hand might betray you if you didn’t. It was beyond touch aversion at this point—no, truthfully, you were so touch starved. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d hugged someone, let alone shook someone’s _hand_. It had been that long.

“It’s not that I don’t like you—I’m sure that you’re a fine person. But touching other people…”

“It’s alright. I’m no bonehead, I can tell when to quit. Don’t worry, it won’t get under my skin.” He’s looking at you expectantly, and it takes you awhile to catch up, not expecting any of what he just said. In that moment, your mind is like a spinning beach ball of death, just processing what’s he’s saying until you realize he made not one but two puns.

“I… _what?_” Is your elegant reply.

“Lighten up a bit. You don’t need to shake my hand to start over.” Almost dejectedly, he slips his hand into the blue parka he’s wearing, but the look that he levels you with is understanding. “The offer’s still on the table. Why not stop by sometime, neighbor to neighbor. Papyrus would love the company. He doesn’t seem to think you’re half bad. I think you actually made a good impression on him.”

“What? _Really? _Why on earth would he…” You’re truly taken aback by this, but Sans merely shrugs.

“Eh, he kind of respects anyone who stops one of my pranks from happening.” Sans mutters, but you’re still very lost.

“But anyways, you don’t have to accept the invitation right now if you don’t want to. Just sit on it, and if you feel like taking me up on the offer, shoot me a text.”

“A text? But I don’t…” Before you can finish the thought, he whips out a touchscreen phone.

“No harm in sharing numbers right? I’ll text you if I need a cup of sugar, you text me if you ever want to hang out.”

“I…” Just turn him down. It’s so easy to do. Most of the time, you never get this far—to the part where people seem to want to exchange numbers. Why was he so persistent? Was it merely curiosity? Were you even going to continue to entertain this charade?

No. The only logical answer was no.

“My number,” Against all better judgement, against every known fact about your very being, you tell him your phone number. He taps the digits into his phone, and before you know it your own phone is buzzing in your pocket.

‘sup’

Then the unthinkable happens. For some reason, seeing the lowercase nonchalant one letter reply, it just… you couldn’t help but to smirk.

A soft chuckle brings you back down to earth, and you force your face to relax, replacing that brief little peaceful sensation with a slight tinge of embarrassment. You can only hope he didn’t see.

“Well, it’s getting late. I won’t keep you any longer.” As if to accentuate his point, he lets out a long and drawn-out yawn. “Get some rest, and hopefully we’ll see each other soon.”

You don’t say anything at the hinted suggestion his sentence had.

“Good night.” You say, turning towards your balcony door. You take one final look back, but by the time you do, Sans is already out of sight within his own apartment. You follow suit, closing the balcony door behind yourself as you’re immersed in darkness. No lights on.

You kick your shoes off, letting them fall anywhere, and you wonder if anything will actually come of this. Or even, if the idea is even worth entertaining. But the exhaustion of having just cried kicks in, and you want nothing more than to curl up in your bed and not have another complicated thought for at least the next twelve hours.

Before you can even make it upstairs, however, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

‘it’s, uh, a little late for this but i just realized that i never got your name’

You look down at your phone, fingertips hovering over the buttons. In the end, you just settle for sending your name and no other reply. After that, your phone doesn’t ring anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try my best to update in a timely manner, but this one was practically pre-written. I enjoy everyone's comments and the support ;w; I can't wait to see what everyone thinks <3
> 
> EDIT: I made a minor change regarding the amount of time the reader's sister has been missing, just to give myself some leeway. I'll also mention this at the start of chapter 3.


	3. Housecooling party PT. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special note that I mentioned in chapter 2: I've changed how long your big sister has been missing from two years to five. Enjoy the chapter!

It’s noon when you wake up the next day. A little early, by your standards, but you don’t end up closing your eyes again. Instead, you notice on your lock screen that there’s a message for you.

‘why are skeletons so calm?’ it said. At first, you saw the unnamed ID and thought it was spam—who on earth would text you anyway? Then you noticed the messages just above it and remembered everything that happened last night. And rightfully, you felt a wave of embarrassment crawl over you. God, Sans had seen you cry, and seen what you were like when you let down your barrier—yet he was still texting you? He hadn’t been initially rude, not even obliquely, but surely he wasn’t still serious about inviting you over, right?

You could just ignore the text message. Although, from the two checkmarks next to it, it was obvious he had seen the message.

‘Why?’ You typed out the word, finger hovering over send. It wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself. Through the barrier of text and the internet, you could at least pretend to be a decent person. You hit send.

Only a couple seconds pass by, you’re checking other apps, when your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘because nothing gets under their skin’

You couldn’t help the light snort that escaped you as you looked down at your phone. You’re not even thinking twice before you’re texting back the lamest joke you could think of, something you were sure every elementary school kid knew.

‘What did the triangle say to the circle?’ Before you can second guess yourself, the message is out.

‘what?’ His reply was instantaneous, and for the first time in months you’re grinning like a fool as you type out the punchline.

‘You’re pointless.’

You’re two-second bravado is wearing off when he takes a little longer to reply, but soon your phone vibrates once more.

‘oh man that’s awful’

‘i love it’

‘You have a thing for bad jokes?’ You ask him over text.

‘a thing?’

‘buddy’

‘pal’

‘it’s literally my entire life’

You look down at the text, a small smile on your face, but then you’re unsure of how to reply. Rather, you’re unsure of whether you should even keep the conversation going. You used to be a lot braver online, hell you’d never even get this far in person, but old habits were hard to kill. You lock your phone, placing it under your pillow as you get up for the day.

Depression, for lack of a better phrase, was quite the bitch. Most days you hardly ever left your bed, opting to switch between depression naps and playing on your phone. Today, however, you were feeling somewhat of a second wind. Whether or not it was because someone nice had texted you, well… it was a mystery.

-

For the first time in who knows how long, you actually left the building. As in, you did something more than just taking out the trash. Though you’d gotten an early start to the day (before 3 o’clock was early in your book) you never really left the house that often. You didn’t have a reason to, what with no job and just enough money to last on depression meals for however long you could. So yeah, even though you were leaving your home, it was almost 10 o’clock at night by the time you got around to doing it.

There was no need to drive; being in a semi-suburban area there was a Target in walking distance. The reason you preferred to leave at night was because it basically eliminated any chance of bumping into any of your neighbors. You hated causing trouble, even if you couldn’t help it. At least at the Target, even if people stared longer than they should, reacting to an unknown source of anxiety, you had the benefit of societal conventions and never having to see these people again.

Your anxiety doesn’t spike that badly once you’re in the Target, so you hope that no one is staring as you make your way to the home goods aisle. Lo and behold, the exact thing you hoped to see.

A “Live, Laugh, Love” sign. No tacky new home was complete without it. Though you never agreed to take Sans up on his offer, you figured that, should the stars align, it wouldn’t hurt to have something prepared. You didn’t know what things they did or didn’t have, and you weren’t about to ask either, so you grab the tacky sign, a doormat, and a few drinking glasses for them.

By some miracle of god you manage not to have an anxiety attack at the register. The cashier eyes you suspiciously, your anxiety literally contagious as you fumble for some cash. In the end, you pay like a normal person without any incident and then beat a hasty retreat.

When you finally returned home it was much later in the evening. You still had no idea whether or not you’d be taking Sans up on his offer, that was your justification once you set the bags of items down. Plus, it was too late at night to be respectably texting anyone. With that in mind, you simply decided to go to sleep.

\- - -

Three days passed, and you hadn’t texted Sans back regarding his offer, much less left your apartment. Though he greeted you each morning over text with a lame joke, and you texted him back a few times, it never went farther than that. Your anxiety always reigned you in, not letting you say or do too much in fear of how you may come off. Though your emotions only affected people in person, your fears and inhibitions affected all aspects of your life. As if you would _ever_ take the initiative on this. Really, you were more than happy to fade back into background noise. That’s what you told yourself. But that voice that had long gone quiet since your sister disappeared kept nagging at you; what might happen if you reached out? Or, rather, what would happen if you let _others_ reach out.

But that’s just unrealistic.

Either way, it was late in the afternoon yet again when you’d gotten out of bed. Like the days prior, there was a text waiting for you, sitting in your notifications. But as you got out of bed, you could feel it crawling over you.

You never noticed these things until they happened—you had been running on sort of an emotional high the past few days. For yourself, that is. Consistently getting out of bed, doing things that involved leaving your apartment… they were normal for everyone else, but for you, it took so much energy just to even walk downstairs. That was your own version of a high note.

Now you were about to fall into another low tide. Every time you thought your depression wasn’t that bad, that it was manageable, it would remind you just who exactly was in charge.

It’s been like this for years—five of them to be exact. You were never a well-rounded or well-adjusted kid, but at least back then you had some sort of support net. Once upon a time, you had been in therapy, with mood regulators. Even after your sister disappeared, and you thought all hope was lost, you were still in therapy. But your mother was quick to take advantage of things, of your weakened emotional state, and had been the driving force for you moving out. But you eventually lost the will to help yourself once everything began to look bleaker and bleaker. There were only so many things you could do—you couldn’t talk about your powers then, much less what your sister had been up to when she disappeared.

Your mother was ever the opportunist. Slowly, she began to ask for more and more of your money, claiming it was for rent. You lost the will to do much of anything, and the sessions ended as you stopped being able to afford it. Now you were back in that hole that you’d thought you’d escaped years ago.

It was a miracle, but by that miracle, you managed to drag yourself out of bed before the evening officially hit.

Only because you couldn’t fall asleep like this, starving out of your mind. One depression meal of Ritz crackers and a bottle of water with a juice packet added in and you’d be back upstairs, you thought.

Until you nearly brained yourself on the hardwood floor tripping over a bag.

There was a large trash back just setting next to your fridge, and you remembered idly that you’d been ignoring it for a while. Things often accumulated around the house, quickly becoming visual background noise because you were too tired to clean it, but the bag (no wait, there were two of them) stood out more now that it got in your way. It was unlike your mother to leave trash behind after she was finished; she usually took it around back herself.

You were content to let it sit there, you thought.

You were heading back upstairs, food in hand, when you stopped, sighing and turning towards the bag. But you were already so tired… ah, fine.

You threw your hoodie on, and dressed in black sweats that you felt doubled as outside clothes, and you stepped into your shoes and took a bag in each hand. You could at least muster up the energy for a trip to the dumpster.

Standing before the elevator, having already pushed the button, it took you a moment to notice when someone came up behind you. He was a guy of average height and build, idling scrolling down his phone; he didn’t seem to take much note of you either. The elevator dinged, and he leveraged you with a glance and a small smile, before doing a double take.

“Oh sorry, I was completely zoned out.” He said, stepping in after you. He hit the ground floor, and so you settled back into the elevator.

“That’s fine.” You could already feel a bit of anxiety of having to speak welling up, threaten to overtake the wave of depression that had long settled; but thankfully you still had your guard up.

“I, ah, don’t think I’ve seen you around before? Are you new here?” He was trying to make conversation on the painfully slow elevator, though his polite façade was beginning to slip ever so slightly. Even though you tried, you couldn’t block everything.

“No… I’ve lived here for over a year.” You responded. “We just got on the elevator on the same floor.” You pointed out.

You couldn’t blame him for not recognizing you, even though it appeared you lived on the same floor; you hardly chanced going out during the day, and when you did you usually got lucky. This wasn’t going to be one of those times, though, was it?

“Huh? But I swear I’ve never…” He trailed off, and it looked his mind was deep in thought before his eyes widened, as if coming to some conclusion. “Wh-What apartment do you live in.”

“The center one?” His panic was contagious, and for a moment you wondered who exactly the empath here was. What was he so worried about that—then you realized what he was thinking. Words that had been spoken about you, and that you had repeated so bitterly.

That’s right, you were the ghost weren’t you? This realization surprised you with the response it evoked—you didn’t feel especially depressed about this. Or, maybe your depression was pushing everything else into the apathetic part of your life. The anxiety you felt left you, and was instead replaced by an empty, hollow annoyance.

His eyes were impossibly wide, before he seemed to gather himself. He said nothing else, turning towards the elevator door and slammed the call cancel button like his life depended on it. The moment the door opened, on second floor, he rushed out.

Rich, wasn’t it? Even if you weren’t feeling particularly strong, well…

Your reputation proceeds you.

That was why it was so hard to make lasting connections.

The door closed, and in a few short seconds later you were in the lobby. You were wondering belatedly if you should’ve taken the stairs instead, or hell rather if you should have even came out here in the first place. But you reminded yourself that it was never your intention to make friends right now. Right now, you weren’t even sure where your life was headed.

Stepping out into the lobby, you realized it was the first time in a long time since you’ve seen it during the day, with the daylight shining through. There weren’t many, if any, people down here, but someone was coming through the doors.

“Anyway, Undyne! The lease forbids flamethrower-related cooking tools. I triple-checked just in case.”

“But how are we supposed to make my signature spaghetti if the temperature is sub nine thousand degrees!?”

Papyrus and Undyne had just entered the lobby, and were as of yet unaware of your presence. They seemed to be continuing a banter-y conversation.

“I have been going for a more _gentle_ approach with my artisan craft lately! It seems to result in 100% less house fires, but I think it’s coming out pretty good.”

Papyrus took that moment to pose, and Undyne wrapped her arm playfully around his neck, bringing him in for a noogie.

“Gentle? Gentle?! I’ll show you gentle ya big lug!”

“Not the skull! I just had it waxed!”

“Er, uh. Pardon me.”

God you didn’t want to speak and ruin their fun. But with the couches and the sofa blocking off all other routes through the lobby, you were forced to either awkwardly wait for them to notice you or equally (if not more) awkwardly climb over a couch to get to the door.

“Ack! The human neighbor!” Papyrus quickly squirmed out of Undyne’s grip, standing up straight and brushing off his quirky outfit. You didn’t have the chance to fully take in his quirky getup or antics when you’d met him the other night.

Speaking of which, didn’t Sans say that you’d made a good impression on him somehow?

“Other neighbor? Oh! So you’re the gh—” Undyne was quickly interrupted by Papyrus yelling at the top of his metaphorical (or metaphysical) lungs.

“GREAT! The great neighbor from next door. Greetings, neighbor! It is I, the Great Papyrus. It must be fate that we’re here, because I was just thinking about you. Oh, and this is my good friend, Undyne.”

“Uh…” Undyne gave you a once over, and you felt your will and apathy wavering. But just as quickly as she looked skeptical, she gave you a wide toothy grin.

“That’s right, I’m Undyne. Several rungs greater than Papyrus, but don’t call home about it alright?” She extended her hand towards you, ignoring Papyrus asking to see a source on that claim.

“My name’s (Y/n). I’m uh the next-door neighbor, but you already knew that. Pleasure to meet you.” You took a deep breath, trying to will away the anxiety that was welling up regardless. In the back of your mind, it kept echoing; somehow you’d made a good impression on Papyrus. You didn’t want to ruin that, even if it was inevitable.

You looked down at her hand, realizing that you were leaving her hanging, before you held up the bags of garbage in either hand.

“Sorry, my hands are full.” You explained. “Plus, this is garbage, I would need to wash my hands and everything.” It was a solid excuse.

“Alright, whatever punk.” Undyne said, weighing you with a careful look.

“Human! Er, I mean (Y/n)! Once you’re finished depositing the garbage and are properly clean, you should come over to my apartment! We’re having a housewarming party.”

“How’s the house gonna be warm without a flamethrower…” Undyne was muttering as Papyrus spoke.

“The house! Will be! Sufficiently toasted, I assure you. Hopefully a gentle toasting and not a _burning_ toasting. My brother, Sans, said he invited you to come hang out not too long ago, but seeing as you never came I’m sure he did it in his lazy way. Not to worry, for the Great Papyrus is here to offer a formal invitation.”

You weren’t sure where he was going with that, about to step up for Sans and admit that you were just flaking out like the coward you were. But suddenly, something was being pushed right under your nose, and you had to back up to get a good look at what it was.

There was a little card in his mittens, caked in glitter and glued on macaroni. In near illegible, chicken-scratch handwriting the phrase “HOUSEWARMING!!!!” was written in all caps, and underneath there was a crude drawing of a plate of spaghetti with flames erupting from it.

“This is… the cutest thing on earth.” You’re unable to contain your grin as you set down the bags of trash in your hands and take the card gingerly, opening it to see the words “YOU’RE INVITED!!!! HOUSEWARMING!” in equally awful penmanship. And was that a self-portrait in crayon? Jesus, how old exactly was Papyrus—but the question died on your lips because the thing currently being warmed right now was your heart.

“Really? Wowie, you really think so?” Papyrus put his hands to his face, blushing (how?!) as he turned away. “Nyeh-heh-heh! So you’ll come to our housefire party? I mean, housewarming?”

“Oh! Oh, I don’t…”

“Don’t get disappointed just yet; I’ll make sure there’s at least one fire started, or die trying.” Undyne reached over, and belated you realized it was likely to pat your shoulder in a jovial, innocent way.

But in a near instant, you stepped back with your feet hitting the garbage bags, nearly falling over in your reflex.

“Oh no! Careful, neighbor!” Papyrus instinctively reached forward to help you regain your balance, but you righted yourself, stepping back to avoid him touching even your clothing. It was two reflexes in play, really—ones that you were ashamed had been built but were otherwise necessary. You knew what it did to people when they touched you, so it was only common courtesy on your part to avoid it altogether, right? Even if they didn’t realize it, even if they thought you were being rude, in the long run it was for their own sake.

And, you were kind of jumpy around sudden movements aimed your way. The supposed “caretakers” of your childhood, your mother included, had built that one up.

“What’s up, (Y/n)? You look scared half to death!” Undyne looked on in concern, but thankfully kept her distance. You looked between her and Papyrus, between their concerned expressions, and wondered if they were truly concerned, or if the traces of your fear and anxiety were simply messing with them unknowingly.

“S-Sorry, it’s no big deal I just…” You averted your gaze, staring at the ground and clenching the bags in your hands until you felt your nails piercing the plastic. “I get jumpy whenever people try to touch me.”

It was the truth—not a single lie. But it was a thing that you were ashamed of regardless.

“Oh, shit! My bad, I had no idea.” Undyne’s apologetic tone immediately had your gaze snapping up.

“Language! A-And yes, we’re very sorry, friend.”

You blinked in shock, not expecting to find their genuinely apologetic tones. Most people came away at the very least awkward, if not jilted, when you rejected any form of touching, especially from people who were handsy. Most people thought that you were being rude and standoffish, showing that you hated to be touched by others. A handful of people could tell that something wasn’t quite right, but would rather distance themselves before getting involved.

And here these two were, apologizing like you hadn’t just flinched into outer space.

“You don’t have to apologize!” You choke down your anxiety, not wanting this moment to get spoiled. “I’m glad you’re not angry, but uh… Either way… are you sure you want me at your party? You went through all this trouble to make a card, but I’m just your neighbor.”

“Were you born yesterday, punk?” Undyne’s smile was back full force. “It’s _because_ you’re a neighbor that you have to come to a house firing party.”

“I don’t think you were born yesterday—because I just saw you a week ago—but Undyne’s right! Our other mutual neighbor, Carlos, is also joining in on the festivities.”

You put two and two together, figuring that Carlos was the guy you had bumped into on the elevator on your floor. What a shock it would be for him to see you over there, the person who he likely thought was haunting his apartment!

Wait a damn moment!

You were getting way too ahead of yourself here. You hadn’t just contemplated accepting an invitation to a social event, had you?

You were letting yourself get carried away; the crippling depression that had been plaguing you was taking backburner after running into two polite people. That didn’t mean you weren’t an expert in this field. And what exactly was that field?

People inevitably disliking you.

Maybe because Papyrus’ wholesome antics and Undyne’s well-meaning bravado had your heart melting, but surely they could still sense it whenever your fears came to bite you in the ass. The minor “bad vibes,” that eked out of you steadily.

“I…”

But could you say no to that face, after he’d hand made you a card out of macaroni and glitter?

“I’ll consider stopping by.” You finally manage. Papyrus looks a little disappointed, but he’s quick to recover.

“I will! Consider it! Considered.”

“Make sure to make up your mind fast, punk. Once everyone’s here, we’re breaking out the good stuff. The good stuff meaning spaghetti, of course.”

You assure the two of them half-heartedly, continuing to give a non-answer—not a firm yes but not a firm no, before they finally let you take the trash out.

Blissfully, you run into no one as you round the corner of the apartment and into the alleyway right behind the building. There was a dumpster there, and you quickly relieve your hands of the bags that were plaguing you for far too long.

Then, you promptly proceed to kick the side of the dumpster.

“That went awful, that went horrible, god can’t they just hurry up and—” You’re about to run your hands over your head before remembering how dirty they probably are. “—Hate me already?!”

You’re tempted to have another cry, feeling the anxiety and despair beginning to overwhelm you.

You’ve met so many people in your life.

So many nice people who you wanted to have like you.

But without fail, no matter how kind they were in the beginning, they always turned their backs on you.

It didn’t matter how infrequent it was—if they so much as caught a hint of the anxiety and depression that followed you like a plague, they mistook these feelings for their own. Soon, even on days when you were fine, their own apprehension overwhelmed any pleasant feelings they may have had about you.

Your own anxieties and fears become their own. Slowly, over time, even with every shield up, they abandon you.

Hand over your forehead, having long forgotten about the garbage, you tilt your head up to avoid crying. All the while, you’re trying to catch your breath, and idly you wonder if you were about to have an anxiety attack. You could feel it speeding up as that thought caught up to you:

The one person who had always been by your side, and who never judged you for the emotions you projected?

The only person who had been in the same boat as you?

“God, just be quiet already!” You whispered to yourself, willing the unwelcome voice to shut the hell up. You didn’t want to cry. When you cried, you had to let everything down. Even now, you could feel your resolve slipping. And you didn’t want a repeat of last time, of someone—

“Heya.”

—Sneaking up on you!

You jerk to your feet, looking around before catching sight of the owner of the voice. Sans was leaning against the entrance of the alley, a nonchalant smile on his face, with his hands inside his hoodie.

“Cough or something next time…” You brush your pants off, trying to take on the appearance of someone wasn’t about to start bawling their eyes out.

“I actually just got here.” He said with a shrug. “Regardless, I’d say you’re looking pretty down in the dumps right now. Whats’a’matter?”

“No, I just…” You trail off, gaze snapping back towards him as you catch up on the pun. It’s enough to make you chuckle. “Ha _ha_. Real funny.”

“Glad you think so. Because that one was _garbage_.”

You put your hands on your hips, trying hard not to smile. Your bad mood was still creeping up on you, reminding you that right now was no laughing matter. You took a deep breath, trying to push it back and look normal, at least for a little while.

“Yeah, really, I’m starting to realize most of your jokes are real _stinkers_.” You respond, pushing your sleeve up to cover your grin with your hand.

“Brutal. I’m glad I got in my daily humor allotment with you, seeing as you never answered my text.”

“Oh…” You realize that you’d broken the semi-ritual of texting Sans a joke this morning (your version of a morning, really it was afternoon). After waking up in such a mood, everything else had been drowned out; hell you’d surprised yourself by finding the spoons to take out the trash. “Well I meant to. I just… kind of forgot.”

“’S no big deal, I can relate to that. I’ve got a pretty bad memory too. Speaking of which, I just remembered what I was gonna say. My bro and I are having a housecooling party right about now. I was about to pick up a friend, but everyone else is probably gathering upstairs. Wanna head in with me once I’m back?”

“What a coincidence…” You mutter, your tone going dry. “Papyrus just asked me, actually.”

“I’m sure you gave him a resounding yes.”

You turn your gaze away.

“I’m… sorry if it’s too blunt, but I didn’t have the bravery to say no to his face. So I guess I’ll say it to you. I’m not really a party person. Or a people person, for that matter. No matter what I do… Well, at the end of the day, I would just end up ruining the mood simply by being there. Thanks for the offer, anyway, though.”

You could feel him staring at you, you could feel the undoubtable disappointment he must be weighing upon you in his judgement. When he speaks, you expect him to just leave it be. Hell, you hope that he does. It’s easier this way—easier than hoping anything would be different.

“I can’t force you to come if you really don’t want to. But I _can_ continue to encourage you to quit selling yourself short. You’re not as bad as you’re making yourself out to be.”

You were surprised by how serious his tone was. Looking up, his smile was ever present, but he was looking at you in a way you couldn’t describe.

“I know myself better than anyone.” You wanted to sound tough and dismissive. It’s what you wanted, but when did you ever get your way? The wavering in your chest, in your heart, spreads to your voice as you’re unable to look away from his calculating gaze.

“This kind of thing is set in stone, alright? No matter what I do, people will dislike me. Even if they don’t in the beginning, it’ll happen eventually.”

“How come?”

“So—Wait, what do you mean ‘how come?’” You cut yourself short, completely caught off guard by his nonchalant question. “It… It’s obvious, isn’t it?” You ask, nearly incredulous but boarding on frustrated.

“Nope. Explain it to me.” He’s still leaning against the wall, looking up at you with a—and there’s literally no other phrase—a shit-eating grin. You think back to that night on the balcony, where he’d been hinting at the truth, and you know that he’s doing it again.

Two can play at that game.

“It’s… _painfully_ obvious.” You’re about to try something you’d never really done on purpose before. Not in front of a stranger—or at the very least, someone who didn’t know about your “condition”. Just the mere thought of attempting it has your heart racing and your anxiety pulsing. But for now, that could work in your favor.

Just a little bit. Like cracking a window, you let down the wall just a bit. Just so he can get a taste at why no one would ever want to be around you.

It’s not that people could sense _your_ anxiety, after all. It’s that you made them physically anxious.

But unlike every time you’d tried this before, the floodgates were bared open. Like a dam breaking from a crack, just letting down the window poured forth everything. It was like you’d dropped the shield entirely against your will.

This scared you more than you could say, because you’d always had some measure of control over this ability. Even if you couldn’t stop it entirely, you could control and ebb the flow. Now, for some reason, you couldn’t finesse it like usual.

This terrified you. Quickly, your eyes looked away from him, and you prepared your mind for the worst—you looked down, too afraid to meet his gaze; you weren’t prepared to see the same fear you felt mirrored in his expression, to see his smile gone, or to see that he’d ran away.

Guilt began to well up within you, and like a snap, you shut everything back up. It wasn’t graceful, like trying to control how much got out—you just slammed all your emotions back into yourself so nothing else could escape.

You weren’t expecting the massive headache slamming into you as well. That was also new.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? You get bad vibes just from looking at me—from being near me. So just let it drop already.”

You manage to utter those words, and you try not to think about the consequences. Everything is whirling through your mind right now—anxiety, sorrow, embarrassment—and you want so badly for him to just let you be. God, you want to collapse into your bed already.

You hear him sigh. Great, you thought. Now all he needs to do is turn around and leave.

“It’s not so bad when you’re expecting it, ya know.”

Those words have you freezing. They swim around in your head, waiting for you to process them, and you’re looking back up, brave enough to take the chance.

He’s still smiling your way. And for some reason, it seems genuinely sincere.

“I’ll be honest kid; you kind of gave me and Papyrus the creeps when we first knocked on your door. But after feeling it for the fourth time now, I realized all that fear and apprehension—all those warning bells and anxiety... This crushing feeling of despair? It’s not mine that I’m feeling, is it?”

It was a figurative slap to the face, having someone see through you so transparently. Instinctively you stepped back, unsure of what to say, of whether or not to come clean. Would he just dislike you more if you admitted you were a walking beacon of bad feelings? Or would he perhaps…

“Who… Who else’s could it be, then?” Your mouth betraying your mind, you continued to go on with this farce, and Sans laughed with a shrug. All along, you weren’t fooling him huh? Even though you knew he was a monster, and that monsters were so well attuned with magic, you still would rather push them all away than explain yourself. So you kept trying.

“Kid, when it comes to magical affairs, you’re going to have a bad time trying to pull the wool over a monster.”

He hit the nail on the head.

“It’s kind of hard to notice at first—no way is any normal human gonna notice the faint trace of magic. Hell, most monsters might not at first glance. But yup, I can say without a sliver doubt, that there’s what we monsters call ‘magic.’”

You’re silent, gaze falling back down to the ground as you fidget with your hands. What do you say now? You weren’t confident enough to call it a secret anymore, but you’d be damned if the cat wasn’t out of the bag.

“Well, come on! Don’t leave me hanging here, talk to me.”

There’s a skeletal hand in front of vision, not quite touching you, but trying to bring you to attention. You look back up at him, but find you’re unable to hold his stare. Still, you swallow the lump in your throat and try to find your voice.

“You’re one hundred percent correct.” You admit it aloud, steeling your nerves to the best of your ability (which is to say, not at all). “It… It _is_ magic. I’ve had this ability for as long as I can remember, and it’s only ever been a pain in the ass.

“Even… even _so_, even if you know the reason why—why would you want to deliberately hang out with me? I’m the kind of person who’s only going to make you feel like shit when you’re around them. Wouldn’t it be smarter if you just let me be?”

“Nope, doesn’t seem smart to me.”

“Alright, now you’re just being stubborn!”

“Stubborn? What, do you _want_ me to not like you?”

_Yes_, you want to say.

But also no.

God no.

“You can’t control this, can you?”

“…No. Like I said, I was born with this power. All I can do is control how much of my emotions are projected at once. And even then, I can’t completely stop it.”

He’s about to speak up, but you hold your hand up to stop him.

“Even if it’s hardly noticeable, it doesn’t take much to set people off. Just that tiny inkling is enough; they know to stay away from that weirdo who makes them nervous. I can’t help being even slightly nervous at all times. It’s not like I want to give everyone these bad feelings. But I can’t really help it.”

“There’s a point here that I’ve been trying to make.” Sans spoke up once you’ve finished talking.

“…And what’s that…?” You asked.

“Monsters are a pretty understanding lot,” Sans closes his eyes as he speaks, shoulders rising and lowering slowly as he sighs. “For the most part. I get that you probably weren’t able to find many humans who sympathized with you, but for monsters, it’s basically every day that someone’s born with magic that they can’t quite grasp or control. I’m sure if everyone knew the situation, they’d understand.”

That’s where you choke up. The idea of telling anyone was still a foreign concept—this whole exchange was a foreign concept. For as long as you could remember, no one could ever know about you or your sister, and you could never justify yourself. The only person who truly understood…

-

_Your eyes were puffy and red from hours of crying and stewing in your own tantrum. Your teacher and his aides had long abandoned trying to get you to stop; the best they could do was keep the other children from further picking on you. When your sister came, you had finally cried your hardest, and you were only left with resentment for your other classmates and embarrassment at the look of knowing within your older sister’s eyes._

_“What happened this time?” She asked as she held your hand, the two of you walking to the bus stop._

_‘Nothing.’ You signed idly, trying to look away. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t hide anything from her._

_“Was it Sandy again? I already beat up his older brother, but I can’t beat up a kindergartner…” She said, looking up and down the sidewalk as if for the kid in question. At this, you shook your head vigorously, getting her attention before signing._

_‘It was everyone! Even the teachers weren’t nice to me today. Everyone kept saying that I was being annoying and making them angry, but I wasn’t even doing anything.’_

_Floodgates open, you vented to your sister about your day, and she watched you intently. Though she was the one who had been learning sign language alongside you—it was her idea after all—you took a quicker understanding to it than she, and oftentimes needed to slow down for her._

_‘Everyone hates me.’ You said once you’d finished telling her about the day. ‘And I don’t get it.’_

_You sister looked down at you, patting your head gently with a conflicted look. She’d tried explaining it to you before—but even she barely knew the half of it, being only five years older than you. But the two of you knew one thing for certain; no one could know the truth about you. No one could know why you sometimes made them pissed off or annoyed, or happy and full of vigor. They only knew of the negative emotions, and that they only felt them around you._

_“Not everyone hates you…” Your sister tried. “I don’t hate you.”_

_You glared up at her, unconvinced._

_‘You’re my family, that doesn’t count.’ You signed slowly. This time, however, it was your sister’s turn to look unconvinced._

_“So what? Mom doesn’t like you or me.” She stated matter-of-factly. The words had no bite to them, they were the mere truth. “Grandma doesn’t like us either. And we’re supposed to have a father, but he’s never around! I don’t like you just because you’re my family, I like you because I think you’re cool.”_

_You couldn’t help the big smile forming on your face._

_‘But don’t you get sad when I get sad? Or angry when I get angry?’ You asked, already knowing her response._

_“_Everyone_ makes me angry. But I can just barely tolerate you, so it’s alright.” She laughed as she brought you into a headlock, pinching your cheeks. “So quit crying. Not everyone is mean like your classmates; there are going to be people who hate you no matter what, but there are also people who like you no matter what.”_

-

You had held onto those words for a very long time. In some instances, they proved to be true. In others, you were beginning to doubt your sister’s bravado.

“You think everyone would understand if I explained how my magic worked?” You asked tentatively, breaking a short silence.

“Yup. To sweeten the deal, you won’t even have to explain. I can be your wingman and give everyone the lowdown, if ya want.”

You wanted to ask him why he felt the need to go out of his way, but you felt yourself getting repetitive.

“If I were you, I’d just give in.” Sans said, noticing your hesitation. “My brother seems hell-bent on making you a friend. It’s hard to dissuade him when he gets like this.”

“He does seem pretty… gregarious.” You said, allowing yourself a small smile.

“That’s one way to describe him.”

“…Then I guess it won’t hurt to try.” You forced yourself to give a small smile despite the tumultuous feelings within you. The negative voice in your head reminded you of the inevitability of failure that was coming your way. It reminded you that you were just playing the long game, now.

Even in the face of unwarranted and unwavering kindness, you wanted to hesitate.

Just don’t act surprised, you thought idly, when it all came crumbling down.


	4. Housecooling Party PT 2: Electric Boogaloo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive.

“Alright, then. Wait right here.” Sans threw his hands into his coat pockets, winking your way as he took a step back.

“Uh, wait, where are you going?” You asked, stepping forward slightly.

“I told you I had to go grab a friend. It’ll only take a second; I know a shortcut.”

Before you could properly question this, he had already disappeared around the corner of the alley. Curiously, you stepped forward and looked down the alley toward the direction he’d disappeared to; it was several feet either way until anyone could reach the street. It was like he just vanished into thin air.

“Am I… being pranked or something?” You asked in a whisper to yourself as you check both ends of the alley again.

“Yup.”

You whirled around, eyes wide to find that Sans was stand right behind you. This was happening way too often, being scared shitless by Sans. You were hoping it wasn’t going to become a recurring theme.

“Told you I knew a shortcut.” He said nonchalantly. “I was hardly even gone.”

“You disappeared into thin air and then suddenly appeared behind me.” You stated, tone accusatory.

“Yup.”

You decided to let it drop, remembering that magic wasn’t just a thing that plagued you, and belatedly realized that there was someone standing behind him. She had muttered something about Sans pranking people through time and space again, and you quickly turned your attention towards her. 

You recognized her, a short dinosaur-like monster with thick glasses. In her hands, she was clutching a thick bag, scratching the painted paper surface nervously. She was only a tad shorter than Sans, who himself only came about up to your eyes, and regarded you nervously once you noticed her. Why, she looked twice as nervous as you felt, quite the difference from when you’d seen her in the hall the other day.

“Oh. Hi.” You gave a light wave before offering your name so as not to appear rude. Sans was only gone a few seconds, so you had no idea whether or not he had time to tell her about your, uh. Condition.

“H-Hi. My name’s, uh Alphys. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah…”

Thankfully she doesn’t make an attempt to shake your hand, but instead dropped her gaze, smiling nervously. You wring your hands together behind your back, scouring your mind for something—anything—to say and break the awkward silence.

“I hate to interrupt this deep conversation,” Sans cuts in, a saving grace. “But we should probably head in now.”

“Right.” You said, relieved.

The three of you head towards the entrance of the alley, but to your surprise Sans began to go in the opposite direction.

“The apartment’s this way…?” You called out, unsure at first.

“Eh, this way’s quicker. C’mon.” He waved you over, and you turned to look at the apartment building which was so blatantly not in that direction.

“It actually is quicker this way, heh.” Alphys smiled, and you had a feeling the two of them were in on something. You weighed them both with a skeptical look, but in the end you began to walk in tow.

“Stay close, alright?” Sans called out over his shoulder as the three of you continued walking.

“…Wh—?” Right as you were beginning to wonder if this was yet another prank, you took another step and suddenly the air around you felt heavy. You gasped as suddenly, within the blink of an eye and a flash cold air, you were standing in your apartment’s hallway.

“…at the hell.” You’re unable to stop yourself from letting out a light curse as you wheel around to make absolute certain that this is indeed your apartment building and not an elaborate set.

You look to Sans and Alphys—the latter is giving you an understanding and apologetic smile, while the former seems to be amused at your confusion.

“Pretty quick, right?” Sans said nonchalantly.

“Jeez, you c-could have at given them some warning.” Alphys laughs good-naturedly.

“Well, it was pretty cool.” You mutter softly, adjusting quickly. Just magic, you tell yourself—not exactly a foreign concept, least of all to you. Besides, there wasn’t a world where teleportation wasn’t cool—and convenient. “Wait, before we head in I…”

Ever reliable, as if on cue, your anxiety flared once more as you remembered what was happening. Right, right, you were about to have your deepest secret laid bare alongside meeting a bunch of people. It was a page right out of your worst nightmares.

“I need to get something out of my apartment.” You said, turning to Sans and Alphys.

“Alrighty, then. We’ll warm up the crowd for you.” Sans gives you a wink, and you flash him a thankful half-smile, turning to your apartment door to run inside. You realize too late that it might have sounded like an excuse to go inside your apartment, but you did have an actual valid reason.

Number one, you wanted to put on clothing that was different than what you’d slept in. Though the holes in your pants and t-shirt were hardly noticeable at a glance, they were hardly party material either. You made your way upstairs and threw on clothing that implied you were a functioning person—something casual and day-to-day.

Number two, you still had your gifts.

Holding the Target bag in your hand, you almost can’t believe you’re actually going through with this. You were going to go over there and do friendly and neighborly things like giving gifts and speaking amicably… these concepts were still wholly unfamiliar to you.

All joking aside, to say you were more nervous than you’ve ever been was no big overstatement. Sans said that everyone would understand when he explained it, that it didn’t need to be a big deal and that he would do it _for_ you, but you still couldn’t ignore the doubts that were a background monologue for longer than you could remember. Monsters weren’t the same as humans, you had to remind yourself—and besides that, you were coming upon a time where not hiding your powers didn’t mean you’d mysteriously disappear off the face of the earth.

Your heart hurt at the thought, and you wondered what your sister would think of you if she could see you now. Though it had taken outside coaxing, the past few days you had communicated with someone other than your mother more than you had in five years. That had to count for something. Hugging your housewarming gifts to your chest, you took a step outside.

Sans was leaning up against the wall outside your apartment alone, scrolling through his phone until he noticed you.

“You ready? And, uh, what’s all that?” Sans looked up at you, smile turning lopsided once he caught sight of you clutching a Target bag to your chest like it didn’t have handles.

“Just some housewarming gifts…” You trail off, holding up the bag with a sheepish grin. “Some cliché things I picked up a while ago. You know, in case I actually stopped by.”

“Good thing you changed your mind. Mind if I sneak a peek?”

“I mean they _are_ for you two.” You hold the bag in one hand, awkwardly taking out the ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ sign and the doormat, leaving the glasses to clink inside the bag gently. Sans’s eyes immediately go to the sign with a snort.

“This has got to be the human version of one of those lame signs you hang over your stove or something, right?” He asks you with a laugh, and you can’t help but to chuckle.

“It _is_ lame, isn’t it? I just figured no new home is complete without at least one ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ sign.” You explained.

“Of course it’s lame, that’s why I love it.” Sans took the sign from you, genuine amusement in his face as he looked it over. “I love lame, cliché things like this. Ironically. Papyrus, however, will probably genuinely love this.”

Though it’s the smallest of things, you can’t help but feel a little relieved. Sans turned, heading towards his apartment, sign in hand, and gestured for you to follow

“Everyone’s here already. I, uh, went ahead explained the situation to everyone.”

You paused, going slightly wide-eyed.

“Really? What… what did they say?” You feel silly asking the question, but it escapes your mouth anyway.

“Nothing special. If anything, it just made the most sense.” Sans said casually. “More sense than a human ghost living next door, anyway.”

“Just like that, huh?” You said to yourself, trying to dispel your unease. Everything was kept reigned in for now.

“Yup, just like that.” Sans paused as his hand touched the doorknob, as if something came to him. He turned to you with a wink and a shrug. “Just like magic.”

You gave him a wry smile, about to comment on his joking reflexes, when he opened the door. Your brushed your feet on the mat outside before stepping, willing your anxiety back.

“Sans, you’re back!” A loud voice from your right caught you off guard, and suddenly Papyrus was in view. He let out a loud, overly dramatic gasp when he saw you, throwing his hands in the air. “And you brought our neighbor like you promised!”

“(Y/n) even brought us housecooling gifts.” Sans held up the sign in his hands, and Papyrus put his hands to his face as he looked at the sign.

“Live… Laugh… Love?! The core tenets of a great life! This is pure poetry.” Papyrus looked up to you, tears (?!) forming in his eyes, against all logic. “This is such a wonderful gift!”

“I’m glad you like it, then.” You hold up the bag and the welcome mat in your hands. “But I also brought this, too.”

“Wowie, another welcome mat? Who knew housewarming parties were just like birthdays!”

“Oh? You already have one.”

“Yeah! Didn’t you see it outside?!” A loud voice came from inside the house, and over Papyrus’s shoulder you caught sight of Undyne. She was a ways back, near a large dining table, and she was wearing a heavily stained apron. Also at the table was Alphys and… well, Carlos. He looked a bit nervous to see you, but by no means shocked. In fact, he seemed to look a bit apologetic as well.

“I had it in that bag I was holding… Looks like we both had the same idea, heh.” Alphys gestured to the door, you realized that you had reflexively wiped your feet on a welcome mat before coming in. Huh.

“I also brought one as well,” A soft voice calls out from where you assume the kitchen was. Coming into sight was Toriel, queen of the monsters. She was wearing an apron, taking off her oven mitts as she turned to you with a warm smile. Papyrus took a step back so that she could see you properly.

“Hello Your Majesty!” You blurted the phrase out before you could stop yourself. Belatedly, you knew how dumb you sounded. You were only an ounce of self-control from fully bowing right then and there. Though you knew that everyone here was somehow acquainted with Toriel, but you weren’t expecting to run into her so soon. All you knew about her was what you’d gleaned from the internet.

“Please, my child.” Toriel cleared her throat, and your face went aflame when you heard the sound of giggling throughout the room. “I am not royalty anymore, despite all the sensation. I merely… help out wherever I am able. Call me Toriel.”

“O-Oh, I see. Sorry, then. My name is (Y/n).” You introduced yourself, forcing a smile and hoping that your nervousness was reigned in well enough.

“Say, (Y/n). What kind of animal is a slug?” Toriel asked you. You blinked, unsure of what to make of the unusual question.

“A mollusk, right?” You replied, slightly unsure.

“No, silly! A slug is a snail with a housing problem.”

The joke was probably the lamest thing you had ever heard in your life. But after receiving lame jokes every morning for several days, combined with your embarrassment for nearly bowing in front of Toriel, you can’t help but to cover your mouth and laugh.

“No, (Y/n)! Don’t tell me you’ve fallen prey to bad jokes too.” Papyrus sounds genuinely crestfallen, so you force yourself to stop laughing and look at him.

“No, Papyrus, I haven’t fallen _prey_ to bad jokes.” There’s a beat of silence, and your anxiety washed away as you’re unable to hold in the smile of someone about to tell a shitty joke. “I’m more of a joke _predator_.”

You feel your face heat up as soon as you tell the joke, but to your relief everyone laughs. Even Papyrus, who is covering his face with his hands, is trying to hide a smile.

You’re invited fully inside, and you take the time to set your bag down, carefully taking out the glasses and putting them on the table.

“Have a seat! I’m almost finished preparing a delicious plate of spaghetti. Undyne and Toriel are even assisting me.”

“That’s certainly…” Toriel was at the stove now, peeking on a sweet scent wafting from the inside. She turned to level Undyne and Papyrus a look. “One way to put it.”

“Oh! That nearly reminds me.” Papyrus walks right up to you, gently taking the welcome mat in your hands before you can be shocked and running down the hallway.

As you peeked his way, watching him place the welcome mat in front of what you can only assume is a bedroom door, Toriel walked over to the far side of the loft, near a set of stairs. To your surprise, Sans was already sitting at the table when you walked over, even though you could have sworn he was just standing with you at the doorway. You did a double take back in that direction, and then to Sans who was smiling at you innocuously. Meanwhile, Toriel was calling something up the stairwell.

“Frisk, my dear, you have been in the bathroom an awful long time; someone new has arrived! Please come down and say hello!”

You heard the sound of a door closing, followed by rushed footsteps descending the stairwell. A small mop of brown hair appears in your view, and you immediately recognize the owner. Just like with Toriel, you only knew about Frisk through the media and whatnot—but it was still a shock to see them once more, even if it was technically the second time around.

“Hi there, Frisk.” You keep your composure and introduce yourself, giving your name. You aren’t surprised when they sign a greeting.

‘_Nice to meet you._’

They seem to be slightly surprised, however, when you fluently mirror their sign. Their smile is wide; they appear to be happy to meet someone who can sign.

“Didn’t know you knew sign language.” Sans said, eyeing you.

“Yeah I learned when I was a kid.” You can’t help but to feel a little bashful. When you were very young, you would occasionally have nonverbal episodes—you would go extended amounts of time unable to talk with anyone, mostly out of frustration. And even when you found that your voice did work… it was still hard to speak, knowing that others disliked you for a reason beyond your control. It was partly how you coped with constantly being misunderstood and belittled. But your older sister brought home a thick ASL dictionary one day, and the two of you spent every waking moment pouring over it. Even during those moments where you were unable to speak your mind, your world stopped being so tiny.

“There you are, kiddo!” A voice caught you out of your reverie, and you glanced over to see that Carlos was speaking up. “You were gone so long I managed to finish your portrait.”

You didn’t notice it before, but Carlos had been sketching something with pen and paper since before you came in. Excited, Frisk circled the table to get a better look at his drawing. It was certainly a portrait of Frisk, but they were making a funny face with their cheeks puffed out and their tongue sticking out.

They laughed, turning to Carlos with excitement as they clapped. Then, they turn to you and made the same expression as the one on the paper. You found yourself giggling at their antics, before finally turning to Carlos.

“That’s uh, pretty good.” You said as you took your seat. Carlos gives you a shy smile, coughing lightly into his fist.

“Thank you. I…” For a moment, he looks like he wants to say something else, but he seemed to decide against it.

You looked over to your left and noticed that Toriel was busy chastising Papyrus and Undyne over something. Even though you were fairly certain both of them were adults, they looked like two children receiving a scolding.

“Undyne, while I appreciate your vigor, the oven does not need to go above five hundred degrees. And Papyrus, dear, do not encourage her.” She clapped her hands together once she was done. “Now then! You two busy bodies can help me out by setting the table. Dinner is practically ready.”

Though the two of them sounded slightly dejected as they uttered a “Yes ma’am,” they went to energetic work in setting plates and utensils down in front of everyone. Your stomach rumbled at the idea of an actual meal—when was the last time you had anything resembling a normal portion? Your appetite was strange lately, and you could go from surviving on a stick of gum and half a cup of juice to eating ice cream and chips like someone was coming to rob your fridge. But a serving fit for a normal person? It sounded unrealistic.

“Even though the que—er, I mean Toriel doesn’t make a lot of spaghetti, she makes very good pie! And what is pie, if not noodle-less and sauce-less spaghetti, made in an oven instead of on one?” Papyrus shocked you by appearing by your side, leaning in close with his hand to the side of his face as if he were whispering.

A gentle snort from the kitchen lets you know that he’s perfectly loud and clear. He wasn’t whispering. You don’t have an opportunity to question his logic, as he’s continuing to set the table. Undyne is also whipping about the table holding a stack of glasses, alongside the ones you’d brought, in her arms in an unstable looking pile. Yet she manages to set down a glass in front of every seat without dropping anything, even though the table shakes with each glass set down.

Once they’re done, Undyne takes her seat, but Papyrus dashes back over to the stove area.

“The noodles have achieved maximum viscosity! The sauce, maximum sauce-osity! I dare say that dinner is ready.”

Papyrus was straining the noodles and preparing the spaghetti in a dinner tra—wait, did he say viscosity?

“I’m starving! Bring on the food!” Undyne is holding a knife in fork in each hand, smiling a ravenous smile.

“…It’s too late to order a pizza, isn’t it…?” Alphys is just barely audible next to her, looking nervous as she eyed the kitchen area. That sounded promising.

“That’s quitter talk, babe! Eating is a test of strength. Whoever makes it to the end wins!”

“Shoot, didn’t realize we were being tested. I forgot to study.” Sans doesn’t miss his opportunity to pipe up, smiling wryly.

Part of you wants to ask if you should be concerned, but you have enough tact to not do that with both chefs in earshot. But your expression is painted clear as day, and Sans shoots you a shrug and a wink.

You hear a sound to your left and realize Frisk had taken the chair next to you. With your attention gathered, they sign to you.

‘His spaghetti is… indescribable. You’ll be fine!’ Frisk reassured you.

This was not at all reassuring. But! You were taught not to waste food! You hold your fork up with anticipation and a stiff upper lip.

Right as you’re thinking this, however, there’s a smell wafting to your nose that… well it’s peculiar. At a cursory sniff, the only way you can describe the smell of what’s obviously spaghetti is as… well it certainly _smells_ indescribable, but that doesn’t exactly curb your appetite just yet.

“Dinner is served!” Papyrus goes around the table, scooping a nice helping of steaming hot spaghetti onto everyone’s plate. When he gets to Sans’s plate, however, you notice that alongside a small scooping of spaghetti, he sets down a bottle of ketchup. That seemed odd… you’d never known anyone to add ketchup to their spaghetti. But you’d heard of weirder things, like mayonnaise on pizza or syrup on bacon.

“Thanks bro. My condiments to the chef”

“Teehee.” Toriel gets a laugh out of the small pun, sitting down a huge pie at one end of the table. “We’ll save dessert for after dinner, while it cools. For now, _bone_ appétit.”

“E—” Papyrus’s smile freezes halfway on his face as he turns to Toriel, who has on a ‘do-no-evil’ smile as she blinks back at Papyrus. It looked like he was unable to chide Toriel the same way he could his brother whenever a horrible pun was made. He opts instead to silently set down the rest of the spaghetti in the center of the table and take his seat.

“Nice! Chow time!”

The moment Papyrus hits the chair, Undyne begins tearing into her plate. She uses the fork more like a shovel than a utensil. Seeing her vigor in eating, you deduce that you could probably eat and survive.

Gingerly, you twirled a forkful of spaghetti up and took a bite. You held back from immediately pulling a face.

It was… Huh. Hm.

No, that can’t be right.

You take another forkful, this time making sure to really taste it. You feel like some sort of wine connoisseur, really trying to get a feel for that flavor but…

Again, it escapes you! You find yourself eating more and more off your plate, trying to make a certain judgement pass but no, the spaghetti truly was indescribable to your taste buds. Aside from the peculiar taste, though, something else seemed slightly off about your food, but not in a bad way.

“What do you think?” Papyrus asked suddenly, and you look up to realize that he’s talking to you and Carlos. You look over to your neighbor and know immediately that he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“Well it sure is…” Carlos trailed off, looking towards you. You knew what to say, without missing a beat.

“Indescribable.” You said, nodding.

“Everyone says that! I’m glad that you agree.”

You offer him a smile, and continue to try and finish your plate. When you look up again, just about everyone is either halfway through or finishing up. Alphys seems to be eating just fine, despite her earlier complaints, and it looked as if Undyne had herself a second helping. To your surprise, Frisk has modeled part of their spaghetti into a very impressive fort, using meatballs for reinforcement and their fork as a flag.

“Pft—” You can’t help your snort as they marvel at their own handicraft.

“Wow, Frisk! I’ve never seen my food used like _that_ before.” Papyrus is the first to comment. Toriel looks up from neatly twirling her spaghetti to look at Frisk’s work. In a flash, Frisk begins disassembling their work by promptly eating it. But Toriel wasn’t born yesterday.

“Now, what have I told you about playing with your food?” Toriel sends a motherly glare their way, and Frisk gives her a bashful and sauce-full smile.

You begin finishing up the rest of your food, still trying to figure out the enigma on your plate in front of you, when you just so happen to glance across from you to Sans’s plate.

It hardly looks touched, with mostly jostled noodles, but you see that half of the bottle of ketchup is gone. What? But it didn’t look like he poured it on the spaghetti— but then again wouldn’t that be redundant since spaghetti sauce is already made out of tomatoes? He catches you staring however, and takes you by surprise when he puts the bottle of ketchup to his teeth and downs it like it’s no problem. Where… where did it go?!

You blink. Next to you, you hear coughing, and realize Carlos was also privy to that entire thing.

“What? Can’t a guy drink his dinner in peace?” He asks you with a smile. You’re caught between asking him why he’s drinking an entire bottle of ketchup and not being rude.

“Far be it from me to interrupt you.” You play along, smiling wryly. “But everyone else is almost done with their spaghetti. You need to _ketchup_.”

There is only a moment of silence as everyone stops eating to register your pun.

“Must all of my meals be beleaguered by puns?” Papyrus let out a cry, looking distraught as everyone else at the table let out a laugh.

“Now, now, no laughing at the table; someone could choke. Puns are for _before_ and _after_ eating.” Toriel quieted everyone down, stifling her own laughter. Papyrus muttered loudly about puns not being included at all, but said nothing else.

Once everyone was finished, Papyrus helped clear the plates to make room for Toriel’s pie. It was only one pie, but no doubt there was just enough for everyone with how big the cooking pan must have been. Everyone, Papyrus included, was happy to have a slice placed in front of them.

Dessert was a welcome reprieve from the spaghetti—you simply couldn’t put your finger on what made it so indescribable. Toriel’s butterscotch-cinnamon pie, on the other hand, was verifiably delicious. Each bite left you feeling warm and fuzzy, and when you were done with your slice, you felt like you were full of energy, more than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

“Man, Toriel, your pie is always so _delicious_.” Undyne was beaming wide with a spotless plate in front of her.

“I’m glad to hear that. Fortunately, I made just enough for everyone. _Unfortunately_, however, I made _just_ enough for everyone, so there will be no left overs.”

As a chorus of light-hearted complaints went around the table, Papyrus and Toriel were gathering up the dishes and preparing to wash them.

You felt something tugging on your sleeve and realized Frisk was getting your attention.

“What’s up?” You asked them.

‘Can I have your phone number?’ They signed before pulling out their own phone. It didn’t look like anything you’d ever seen on the market, sort of reminiscent of if someone took a one of those 80s cellphones and tried to put a touch screen on it.

“My number? You don’t want my number; I’m just the neighbor of your friend.” You explained, signing as you spoke.

‘So what? I already have Mr. Carlos’s number.’ Frisk frowned as they explained.

“Yeah, and I have your number.” Sans pointed out, apparently having been watching the conversation.

“Well…” You felt sort of bashful, so used to outright dismissing anyone’s attempts to get close to you. But Sans was right and what the hell, you’ve come this far. “Well, if everyone else is doing it.”

“Hey, we are passing out phone numbers? Here’s mine.” Undyne reached across the table and grabbed your phone out of your hand as you were pulling it out. It was already unlocked so in a flash she was punching digits rapid fire into your phone before handing it back.

“I also gave you Alphys’s, because why not.”

“Ooh! Ooh! Me next!” Papyrus was standing next to Toriel by the sink, washing dishes. He took off a pair of rubber gloves, which he’d been wearing over his normal gloves, and took your phone to punch in his own. Somehow, without taking off his gloves, he managed to punch in his numbers in without a problem.

“Oh Papyrus, be a dear for me and give (Y/n) my number, then come help me finish.”

“Yes ma’am!” Papyrus punched in an extra set of numbers before finally handing your phone back to you.

Frisk looked like they were going to grab your phone before a throat cleared next to you.

“You can have my number as well.” Carlos spoke up next to you, flagging down your phone. He punched his number in before handing it back over.

But your phone couldn’t get settled in your hands just yet; Frisk swiped from your hands, looking annoyed that they got booted to last place, before finally punching their number in.

When you finally get your phone back, your contacts have never been fuller. There’s UNDYNE!!! in all caps, ALPHYS similarly in all caps, PAPYRUS THE GREAT in wow those two liked their capital letters. Toriel also got similar treatment, and blessedly Carlos wrote his name out like a normal person. But then there was someone named ‘Hot Stuff’ with a fire emoji next to the name. Who on earth was Hot Stuff?

You looked down at Frisk, who winked at you and flashed you finger guns.

-

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been to anything even remotely resembling a gathering. Family reunions weren’t your mother’s thing, even if you had family to reunite with, and you weren’t exactly class president in high school either. Still, when it was getting late, now that everyone had finished eating and were saying their goodbyes, you weren’t hit with the absolute relief that you were able to escape a social gathering.

You just… You just felt fine. Not bad, perhaps a little good—no. No, you felt _very_ good. Not feeling anything negative was a step up from like six or seven hours ago. Or maybe you were just so unaccustomed to feeling nothing but good vibes that you were just waiting for the next bad thing to hit you. More than that, though something felt strange to you, like a weight had been lifted; you did two great things today. One, you told someone about your powers. Two, you proceeded to hang out with people—people who in turn _knew_ about your powers. And what you’d predicted what happen, that no one would want to be around you regardless of the truth, didn’t come to pass. Even Carlos, who’d ran away when he’d thought you were ghost, had a change of heart that was almost poetic.

“Oh!” You got up from where you’d been sitting, realizing that you were the last one still here, and felt aflame with embarrassment. “I guess I’d better get out of your hair.”

“Don’t say anything!” Papyrus, who was wrapping an egregious amount of spaghetti and putting it into the fridge, turned around to glare at Sans who seemed poised to speak up. Shoot, you were setting him for it too.

“Come on, bro, they’re setting me up for it.” Sans looked playfully distraught, looking to you for help. Your merely cover your mouth and laugh, shrugging at his missed opportunity.

“Well nyoo-hoo-_hoo_. You’ll simply have to learn some restraint. Ah, but fear not (Y/n). Your presence is welcome, even if you do fuel my brother’s urge to pun.”

“Aw, thanks Papyrus, but really, I should get home; it’s getting late.”

“Oh all right. Besides, it’s almost time for my bedtime story.”

That gave you pause, and you ponder for a moment asking Papyrus how old he was but… no, no that would be rude wouldn’t it?

“I know! Why not take some spaghetti home with you? I made plenty.”

“Oh… that’s quite alright, Papyrus. You seem to really like spaghetti, so more for you.” You said, trying to weasel out of it without seeming like an epic douche.

“My friends are so thoughtful, making sure I eat enough spaghetti.” Thankfully, he had the innocence of an angel and interpreted it perfectly. Everyone else had turned down left overs as well.

You wish him and Sans a good night before heading out. In the hallway before your door though, you pause, sighing to take it all in.

How long had it been since you’ve felt at ease? A little too long, you think. The cynical voice at the back of your head was a little quieter now. Normally it would be reminding you of things—don’t get _too_ close, don’t get _too_ comfortable. Don’t let them linger around you for _too_ long. But this night had been rebuff after rebuff, shutting down the cynicism of the voice. It wasn’t going to go away forever, you were well aware of this fact. But for now, at least, you could ignore it a little longer.

\- - -

Now that everyone was gone, and they’d finished cleaning up, things were starting to unwind. Normally at this time, Papyrus would be getting ready for bed and gathering Sans for a bedtime story. Right now, though, Sans was watching as his brother raced to the fridge, pulling something out.

“I’ll be right back, brother. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone, it’s almost time for my bedtime story.” Papyrus was holding two things, a plate of spaghetti, and surprisingly, a slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie. He looked about ready to burst out of the door before Sans called out, stopping him.

“Where you headed to so late?” He asked, though he was putting two and two together.

“Seeing Toriel’s pie reminded me of something… I never gave our neighbor the slice of pie I’d been saving. And also, they loved my spaghetti so much they turned down taking home leftovers. Everyone did, in fact! I just want to let them know I won’t think them a glutton if they have some more.”

“I guess that checks out. But why didn’t you give it to them earlier? Did you forget?”

“Sans, that you would even suggest… What kind of friend do you take me for? I would never forget, this is just… a tactical pause. Yes! A good friend waits until their friend is in the comfort of their own home to surprise them with gifts. I have decided this just now.”

“Alright, you got me there. Just wake me up when you get back.”

“I’ll only be gone for a few seconds. Don’t fall asleep.” But it was too late, Sans already had his eyes closed.

“Eh, it’s enough time for a thirty second cat nap.” He said with a shrug and a content smile.

“How many thirty-second cat naps do you need to take in a day?”

“2880.”

There was a pause, then Sans heard the front door open and shut without another word.

Relaxing fully, he let himself drift into a cat nap, half aware of his surroundings, half in dream land. Well, most of his dreams were void and blank nowadays, but that was as good as it got.

Yet he was barely a couple of seconds into his thirty second nap when something strange washed over him. Strange, familiar, and unfamiliar all at once.

He felt happiness—not just any kind. It was a desperate kind of happiness, the kind of euphoria that would wash over someone after receiving food during a famine or water during a drought. It made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. But the second it washed over him, it raised more alarm bells than it should have, because it he realized what was so familiar. It wasn’t that this kind of happiness that felt familiar to him, it was the aftertaste of magic following it.

Immediately, he was on his feet, and in a literal blink of an eye he was standing outside his apartment door, looking across the hall where his brother stood across from you.

Papyrus had his back to Sans, hands outstretched in surprise because of you. You, you were holding a plate of spaghetti and pie, and you were crying.

But you didn’t look sad. Far from it; you were smiling wide and without inhibition, looking up at Papyrus as you held up the food.

“I’m glad you’re so happy human! My spaghetti often brings people to tears, I’m well aware of this fact, b-but there’s no need to cry so hard.”

Then, the unexpected happened; you started laughing. Not a dry, sardonic chuckle or a forced exhale, but laugher that radiated relief and happiness so genuine Sans was nearly knocked off his feet. You were laughing and sniffling, trying to balance doing both at the same time as you shook your head.

“I’m fine Papyrus, really.” You said finally, using your shoulder to try and wipe away some of your tears. You took a deep breath, gathering yourself, and looked back to Papyrus. “When I woke up this morning, I thought this day was going to… well I didn’t think it’d be as successful as it was. You’re kind of the cherry on top, right now.”

“Wowie! I’ve never been anyone’s cherry before. I’m truly honored to accept this position.”

You laugh again, and Sans can’t help but to crack a genuine smile himself. Because of your contagious happiness of course, not because he was standing there smiling to himself like a creep and thinking about how cute your smile was when you weren’t trying to cover it up.

Before his brother or you noticed him, he teleported back into his apartment, trying to calm down.

…

…Calm down from _what?_ You seemed to have gathered yourself out there, no longer handing out emotional magic like it was candy, so what was this light feeling in his chest? It was uneasy, definitely not something positive, but it didn’t feel negative either. Funny how he could read your emotions like a book, yet he couldn’t even decipher his own.

Sans was still standing in front of the door when his brother rushed in, nearly running into him.

“Oh goodie, you’re awake Sans!”

He didn’t even have a chance to respond, as Papyrus scooped him up under the arms and began practically skipping over to his bedroom.

“You seem to be in high spirits.” Sans noted once he was plopped down in the center of the room and Papyrus began to root around for a book.

“That’s because I am! We just have such good neighbors. Carlos drew my striking visage as a gift, (Y/n) neighbor cried and called me a cherry. Oh I wish you’d been there.”

Awkward cough.

“Woe is me, to be handsome and popular at all times… At this rate I may be too happy to fall asleep.”

Papyrus was under the covers, in his usual outfit, boots and all, with his nightcap on his head and an expectant look on his face. In his hands, held forward for Sans, was his favorite nighttime story: “Fluffy Bunny Goes to Sleep.”

“You say that, but you’re always knocked by the end of fluffy bunny.” Sans said matter-of-factly as he sat at the end of Papyrus’s bed.

“This is very true. Still! I’m very happy.” Papyrus snuggled deeper into his pillow, waiting for Sans to start reading.

“Yeah, me too bro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like someone's catching feelings.


	5. New Home 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Giver of Bad Names Strikes again.
> 
> Sans learns a little bit about your past, unfortunately.

When you opened your eyes, you immediately began feeling around for your phone. A quick glance let you know that it was a little past noon, and that you had one unread text. You can’t even muster the energy to read it; you slammed your head back into the pillow and let out a frustrated groan.

“_Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_” You kicked your bed spread and beat your head, smothering yourself in your pillow as, unbidden, memories from last night flooded into your head. You didn’t mean to break into tears when Papyrus handed you a slice of pie, but well, it sure as hell did happen. You were simply… overwhelmed. Everything felt like it was happening too fast, going _too_ _good_, and you were still waiting for the whiplash to hit you and ground you back to earth. Sans, that cryptic teleporting bastard managed to convince you that perhaps being social wouldn’t kill you and everyone around you. Strange concept, but it ended up working a little _too_ well—Papyrus was just the cherry on top to a surprisingly bearable day that you thought would be no different from the others.

But now you were no longer riding that friendship high. Now you were a well of embarrassment and something else. There was another reason you were yelling into your pillow.

“What am I going to do?” You whispered, muffled by fabric, before finally coming up for air. For the first time in what felt like eons, you wanted to take active steps in maintaining a relationship. It had been so long since you’d received such unabated kindness—not since your sister was around. You recalled hanging out with her and her college friends, people who likely only put up with you because they similarly idolized your sister. But now these relationships could become something of your own, something that wasn’t an off-handed respectfulness. And you didn’t want to lose that.

Rolling over onto your back, you pulled on out your phone and checked your messages. To your surprise, Sans was either going for small talk of opening with a joke you’ve never heard.

‘hey guess what,’ Was all he sent. So you replied:

‘What?’

His reply came a few seconds later.

‘i sold my vacuum cleaner’

‘Congratulations?’

There was a burst of confetti on your phone screen. You’d forgotten about that feature.

‘thanks’

‘don’t you wanna know why?

‘Why?’

‘got tired of it’

‘it was collecting dust’

“Oh god.” You snorted out loud, setting your phone down as you feel your smile grow. You can do this, you tell yourself. That was the burst of confidence, the smile you needed for the morning. For the first time in possibly a century (you weren’t keeping track) you were going to initiate something.

You pick your phone back up, trying to think of what to type. Where did you go from here? How do friends casually ask one another to hang out? In the end, you were in an endless loop of typing something out and then quickly erasing it, over and over, slowly sapping your ephemeral confidence boost.

‘that joke not land?’

Your phone vibrated in your hand, causing you to flub the thing and nearly drop it. Nearly. You managed to catch it in your hands, but to your abject horror, your finger landed on the screen, right on the enter button, and sent something you had meant to delete and forget about. God must be having a chuckle up there.

‘So I was wondering’ Your message read.

Oh god. Oh god, oh fuck, oh god. You held your phone in your hand like it was on fire, trembling in your fingertips, before taking the smart move and just shutting off the screen entirely.

“Ah!” You yelped when it vibrated in your hand, and felt a wave of anxious nausea wash over you. You absolute did not want to check it. Leaving your phone to rot on your covers, you rolled yourself out of bed and tried to do anything that avoided looking at your phone. You used the bathroom, you took a swig of juice straight of the container out of the fridge, you did anything to avoid touching your phone. You could live without it, right? No. Well technically yes, but the truth was that you were wussing out of the whole ordeal. With every procrastinated action you were berating yourself for even entertaining ridiculous thoughts. You just weren’t cut out for this kind of thing. It wasn’t a realistic goal—you just didn’t have the skills. A severe lack of social skills and an emotionally stunted individual did not a good friend make.

Eventually you ran out of things to do. Hell, you even brushed your teeth and showered, got out of your sad excuse for bed clothes and put on something decent. Something you could leave the loft in. But not enough time had gone by. You just weren’t ready.

“Chin up. I don’t have to respond, I’ll just… read it from the notifications.”

Carefully, as if your phone was a viper poised for an assault, you picked up your phone. When you unlocked it, your stomach broiling at the prospect of an unopened text, you felt your whole body lurch.

Yes, you had gotten a text during that time when your phone was off, one from Sans.

And another one from your mother.

The one from Sans felt like water in a desert a simple ‘what’s up?’

But the one from your mother brought back flashbacks. Of days when you were late coming home from school because you’d missed the bus or were forced to take afterschool tutoring. Or days when your mother had finally found a new excuse to torment you; a sock out of place in your room, a dish unwashed.

‘Call me RIGHT NOW.’

You felt like you had to puke.

You shook your head, bringing your head out of five years ago; you weren’t a child anymore. No matter how she begged to differ, no matter how she patronized you, you knew that she couldn’t hurt you anymore. At least, not like that. You were an adult, damn it.

Setting your phone to silent, you still put it in your pocket as you ran downstairs to your living room. It felt easier to complete one task when you were procrastinating from another.

…Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. It’s all fun and games until you’re standing outside your neighbor’s door, hand poised to knock, before chickening out at the last second. You had known yourself for twenty-three years, yet you honestly expected to suddenly gain the courage to knock on a door when you were actively avoiding calling your own mother? When would you learn, (Y/n)? This needed at least another hour of prep work.

Yet here you were, in the hallway, pacing back and forth and slapping your cheeks.

“You can do it. Just do it. You. Can. Do. This.” You whispered yourself some self-encouragement, taking a deep breath as you readied yourself once more. A couple of punches to the air, a deep breath. Go time.

You put your hand back to the door, rolled your shoulders, and… let out a sputtering sigh as you caved once again to trepidation.

“I _can’t_ do it.”

“Don’t give up so easily. Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I appreciate the kind words, Sans, but I—”

You nearly bit your tongue doing a double take. Sans was leaning a ways down the hall, propped up by his elbow supporting his chin. His ever present grin seemed a bit more mischievous somehow.

“What is it with you and sneaking up on me?”

“In my defense,” He pushed himself off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You _are_ the one standing outside my door punching the air.”

“…You make an excellent point.” Your voice goes quiet, sheepish, and all your bravado fades. “S-Still, you didn’t need to sneak up on me.”

“Old habits die hard.” He shrugs noncommittally, though he throws you an apologetic look. “’Sides, I was just getting home. You made it kind of easy.”

“I feel like I’ve said this before, but cough or something.” You took a defensive tone, though you were honestly not that mad. Just. Still nervous. “How… How long were you there?”

“Long enough to know you’ve got something on your mind. What’s up?”

Shoot. You had been so busy procrastinating from calling your mother that you’d forgotten you were initially procrastinating from texting Sans back.

“Oh? Oh! That, right, yeah.” You played with your hands, taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep everything reined in. “I was just wondering, well, yes, we went over that, I was wondering... I suck at this kind of thing, ah, I came over here to ask to… hang. Out? I know that sounds lame, but I just, you know. Right?”

Any merciful god would have come down and struck your tongue out of your mouth right now, what with how you were fumbling over it. What normal adult comes over and asks to hang out like some grade school kid? Stupid! You should’ve just texted; at least then you could avoid the social mauling you were executing. You avoided looking at Sans, finding yourself unable to keep any steady eye contact, but you were relieved when he responded finally.

“I hate to break it to you, but Papyrus is usually out of the house around this time.”

“Huh?”

“It varies, but he mostly works during the day, so if you wanna catch him, you’ll have to shoot for the evenings.”

“What? No, no,” You looked up now, your confusion leaving as you realized the misunderstanding. “I was actually hoping to hang out with you? If that’s okay? Not that there’s anything wrong with your brother! I’d just feel more at ease talking with you. I’m so used to fronting, even with genuinely nice people, but for fuck’s sake you’ve seen me cry already so how hard could I possibly front? So. I figured. I’d ask you. If you’re busy or something, though, that’s totally fine too. Fine, fine, fine!”

He paused slightly at the revelation, and your regretful thoughts were a battering ram at the back of your psyche. What’s the worst that can happen, a little voice reminded you. He says no? He might be busy, that’s fine, it’s a thing that happens to people who have actual lives.

“Heh. No need to flatter me.” Sans let out a laugh, really it was a brief exhale. But he surprised you when he was the one to avert his eyes, looking half as bashful as you felt, which was a feat in and of itself. “Well if you’re gonna put it like _that_, I _guess_ I can pencil you into my busy schedule. Make room for a casual hangout.” He shrugs, rubbing the back of his head before donning a confident appearance once more.

“Cool, cool.” You try to act casual, like you’re not secretly ecstatic and relieved, and like you didn’t just nervously word vomit a moment ago.

“Ya have any sweet hang out spots?” He asks, with a look that saw right through you. You froze, before putting a hand to your chin in realization.

“You know… I didn’t think this far ahead.” You admitted sheepishly. At this, Sans scoffed lightheartedly.

“Not to worry, I know a place for every occasion. It just opened up in New Home 2. I just so happen to know a shortcut.”

He jerks his head towards the other end of the hallway, and you’re too caught up in that name to mention that the staircase was in the other direction.

Ebott Valley was a suburb—not too big but not too small. And, being right outside of Denver, it was a relatively accepting place. Monsters ended up carving a place in the town like any group of refugees would, imprinting their culture in such a short time that the area was given an honorary nickname. To Cleveland there was a Little Italy, to San Francisco there was a Chinatown, and to Ebott Valley there was… New Home 2. It was, putting it bluntly, a pretty shitty name.

While you were caught up in the semantics, walking behind Sans, you gasp when everything flickered black momentarily, and with a sudden shift of the air, you were standing outside of a building. That still took some getting used to.

Done up in neon lights was the name of the establishment, Grillby’s. You hadn’t even set foot inside yet, but you could tell from the warm lighting and distant chatter that it was a cozy little place.

“He used to have a place underground, then he moved up top. He, uh, doesn’t get a whole lot of human visitors, but you’ve had magic food before, so I’m sure you’ll live.”

“Magic food… Oh! Like Papyrus’s spaghetti?” It finally clicks with you, the strange feeling you’d gotten from eating his food (well the _sensation_; you were sure the indescribable taste of Papyrus’s spaghetti was a mystery all its own).

“Bingo. And Toriel’s Pie.” Sans nods. “The food’s inside. Let’s follow suit.”

“Right.” You smiled, tailing in after Sans.

When you stepped inside, the first thing you noticed was the smell of burgers and fries. Despite how greasy and gross of a smell it should have been, it invited a rather comfortable feeling. The next thing you noticed, you couldn’t put a name to, but it felt like multiple things at once. Like Toriel’s pie, making you feel rejuvenated and alive, or Papyrus’s spaghetti, evoking a taste-evading but bubbly feeling.

Or that sensation you’d get whenever you threw your walls up—panicky and hasty. _That_ wasn’t a good feeling.

Pushing your apprehension aside, you trailed in behind Sans as he made his way to the bar.

Most of the patrons were monsters, ranging from bleary-eyed, half-drunk individuals (it was midday!) to a group of dog monsters all gathered around a table, talking amicably. There was also another dog monster playing solitaire by itself. It somehow appeared to be losing.

A moment after your cursory look over the bar, several patrons called out to Sans, and he took his time responding to everyone who called his name in greeting.

“Heya Sans!”

“Sansy!”

“Sans the man.”

“Hey Sans, who’s your friend?”

“This is my neighbor. We’re hanging out.” Sans said casually over his shoulder.

You nearly tripped over your own feet when someone whistled suggestively right afterwards. You wheeled around, face growing hot, but couldn’t find out who it was. When you turned back to Sans, he was already sitting at the bar, looking at you expectantly.

“Popular, huh?” You asked once you got to the bar, trying to set aside the apprehensive feeling that seemed to be hanging imperceptibly in the air, alongside your embarrassment. The latter was not so imperceptible, unfortunately.

You took a seat at your barstool, unbeknownst to the excited look on Sans’s face. That’s when you heard it.

A loud, dramatic fart noise.

You froze in mortification, before jumping to your feet, knowing that you did _not_ just let a huge one rip in the middle of a bar. On your bar stool was a whoopee cushion, the offending object taunting you, and you looked to the only person who could’ve done it, hands on your hips.

“Don’t look at me, bud. Some weirdos like to put whoopee cushions on chairs around here. They haven’t caught the guy yet.” Sans’s shit eating grin was the exact opposite of someone defending their honor.

You were about to comment on it, mouth poised in disbelief, when you suddenly felt very, _very_ warm. Like you had your face on a heater vent warm.

“Sup Grillbz.” Sans looked to your right, and you followed suit, coming face to face with a bespectacled flame monster, made of literal fire. He was dressed in a snazzy looking bartender get up, which shocked the logical portion of your brain that said that clothing + fire =/= compute. But you were a magical empath hanging out with your monster skeleton friend in an equally magical bar. You could suspend belief enough for this. He nodded to Sans familiarly, before nodding to you as well.

“Oh, hi there.” You introduced yourself, whoopee cushion prank pushed to back burner as you picked up the offending object and laid it on the bar in front of Sans. “I’m, uh, Sans’s neighbor.”

He nodded again—a taciturn one, you noted—and set down a menu in front of you.

“All these options… I almost don’t know what to get.” Sans was leaning over your shoulder, scarily close. He knew that you didn’t want anyone touching you, but he wasn’t even all that close to begin with. You were just feeling especially apprehensive for some reason, and you couldn’t figure out why. You realized, a beat too late, that he was looking at the menu in front of you, and the Grillby hadn’t set one down in front of him.

Grillby, who had been polishing a glass, paused to stare at Sans. He didn’t seem to be capable of emoting in any way, but the way he looked at Sans was flat in an “are you serious?” kind of way. He turned around, grabbing a red bottle and setting it down on the counter.

“Yeah I guess that works.” Sans grabbed the bottle, unscrewing the cap with one hand before glancing at you. “What’re you gonna get?”

“Oh! Um…. Let’s see.” You look over the menu, down the different categories. Wow, there actually were a decent mount of choices… But your mouth watered at the idea of a burger. The menu indicated that this item had been a part of the original menu, back underground. The only other item with that indicator was fries but, but that seemed kind of small to you.

“I’ll have a burger and some fries. And maybe some apple juice to go with it.” You said, setting down your menu. Grillby took your menu, nodding, before disappearing into a door behind the bar. You take a look around yourself, trying to shrug off this pressing feeling that just won’t leave you ever since you entered the bar. Why! It seemed like such a nice place, it smelled good, and practically screamed cozy into your face. So why couldn’t you relax? A little on edge, you nearly jumped when you heard a noise to your left. But it was only Sans, clearing his nonexistent throat.

“What’s up? You don’t look so hot.” He asked you.

“Oh, it’s just that I—” You cut yourself off short, swiveling in your chair to zero in on him with an amused yet unamused look.

“Hardy har _har_.” You said with a scoff. “But, ah, I just am… kind of nervous, and I can’t figure out why. I guess it’s just been too long since I’ve been in a crowded public space. I’m not exactly known for my impeccable people skills.”

“You’ll feel better once you’ve had some good grub in ya.” Sans said. “Grillbz serves the kind of food that helps you forget your woes. Always had the best stuff in Snowdin back underground. Though he was kind of his only competition.”

You smile wryly, spinning idly in your chair as you scoff.

“I’m not sure how to take that praise, seeing as the only thing I’ve seen you ‘eat’ was ketchup.”

“What can I say? Addiction is a powerful thing.”

You snicker a bit at this, only to find yourself caught off guard when a fresh burger, fries, and a tall glass of apple juice are placed in front of you.

“Whoa, that was fast.” You say, though your surprise is overshadowed by the prospect of delish food. “Was it premade or…?”

Grillby nods once in your direction, returning to his work tending the bar.

“Magic food doesn’t go bad like human food does.” Sans elaborated. “Once you make something, it’ll basically stay fresh forever.”

“No kidding?” You covered your mouth as you spoke, having already taken a bite of the burger. To say it was delicious wouldn’t be doing it enough service! All the pretense and propriety of eating in a public place was thrown out the window as you began to demolish the burger. With each bite, you were filled with the strange but not unpleasant bubbling energy of magic. It still made you slightly apprehensive, but the more you ate, the more you were able to press that feeling of unease away with the taste.

Eventually you had to come up for air, in the form of taking a deep gulp of your juice in order to avoid heartburn or hiccups. While the food was magic, it had the same consistency as the stuff you were used to eating, so you actually needed to pace yourself instead of shoveling it in like a heathen.

“Jeez kid, you remembering to breathe?” Sans was next to you, chortling at the sight of your demolished plate.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I didn’t have a chance to eat this morning.” Not that you wake up before noon. You covered your mouth as you spoke, remembering your table manners and that you were in a public place.

“You eating alright?” Sans asked, his jovial smile edged with just a hint of concern.

“I’m just fine, honestly, you don’t have to worry. I just forgot to feed myself this morning is all.” You waved it away, trying your best to reassure him.

“Though if I’m being honest, I usually snack throughout the day rather than eat a full meal. My god, before last night I don’t think… I can’t remember the last time I sat down and had a full meal.”

No, you do remember. Right before you graduated, a couple of months before your sister’s disappearance; she drove up from Denver with a few of her friends, and you all hit up an iHop. You don’t like to dwell too much about what happened after that.

“That’s no good. If my brother heard that, you’d be in for a ride. Kid, let me tell ya, he’s basically itching for an excuse to cook more often, now that we’re on the surface. I’m willing to bet my left shoe he’d love to cook for you.”

You didn’t mean to pull a face, but you can’t help but to bristle at the idea of someone doing more than necessary for you. You’re trying to turn over a new leaf, you remind yourself, but no…

“No, I’m good, really. I’m used to my way of things, and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” You try to laugh it off. Sans looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t speak up to push it.

Sure, most of the time you barely had any spare cash after paying for all of your necessities alongside your mother’s lump sum. Sans didn’t need to know any of the specifics, though. But you weren’t starving, you had a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and running water.

“And stop calling me kid. I’m an adult.” You try to change the subject in a not so subtle manner.

“Younger than me, probably.” Sans challenged, leaning against the bar with his hands behind his head. You raised an eyebrow, and to your surprise, his confidence faltered. “…How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m fifty-seven.” You said, trying to keep a straight face. There was no way he’d buy that, you thought. You couldn’t hold it all in though when his eye sockets widened and he did a double take. “I’m only joking! It was worth the look on your face, though. I’m twenty-three.”

He seemed to visibly relax at the truth, though he gave you a playfully accusatory glare.

“It’s impossible to tell with you humans—no offense. Some of you wear striped shirts, some of you _don’t_. And it’s kinda hard to a take a guess based off height.”

“Striped shirts? What does that have to do with age?”

“A lot—for us, at least. Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Easiest way to tell the youngins from the oldins is by something like a striped shirt. Simple, but fashionable.”

“I guess that makes sense.” You hadn’t fully considered the monster perspective on this kind of thing. Where your kind were used to spotting the difference down to something as menial as the texture of one’s hair and the number of creases on their face, for monsters whose diversity in body, size, and shape knew no bounds, these sort of miniscule details seemed frivolous, didn’t they?

“Oh! How old are _you?_” You stopped your mental tangent and turned on Sans. He was thumbing the half-empty ketchup bottle in his hand before he set it down, smile turning mischievous.

“Guess.”

“Hmm…” You put a hand to your chin, scrutinizing him. “Well you’re older than Papyrus, so—”

“Who said that?” He started to spin in his stool, egging you on.

“What?! There’s no _way_ you’re younger.”

“Heh. Alright I’ll give you that hint. I _am_ older than Paps. But how old is _he_.”

Aw, shit. Back to square one. You knit your brows in consternation, before deciding to say fuck it and make a shot in the dark.

“Thir... No? For—colder? Twenty… Twenty four? Five? Six? S-_Seven_? Twenty nine?”

“Bingo.” He snapped his phalanges, a feat you would have thought impossible with skeletal hands, but hey anything was possible, as recent history proved.

“Oh wow… you’re so old.” You whispered that last part, but judging by his expression, he heard you pretty well.

“I’ll have you know I’m in the prime of my youth.”

You were about to retort and rib on his elderly status when he surprised you. Last night, at the housewarming (cooling) party you’d seen him drink ketchup without moving his mouth. You didn’t think much at the time, not wanting to think too hard about how his anatomy worked. But this time, when he went to take a swig, he surprised you by actually _opening_ his mouth. His teeth parted, and you were surprised to catch sight of sharper than normal canines as he squirted ketchup directly into the darkness of his mouth. Where it. Disappeared.

You had so many questions.

“Problem?” Sans asked you, raising a brow bone as you realized you were staring. As your face heated, searching for something to say, and you decided to bank on a subject change.

“Y-Yeah!” You cleared your throat, immediately averting your gaze and hoping the instability in your voice wasn’t too detectable. What were you getting flustered for? Staring was indeed rude, but you were caught in something other than your embarrassment, and you didn’t feel like evaluating it. “You were busy ribbing on me for eating weird, but I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything besides ketchup.”

“Hey, you don’t know me like that. My tastes are diverse. I don’t _just_ like ketchup.”

You looked to him, head notched to the side.

“Sometimes it’s mustard. If I’m feeling really adventurous, a guy can go for a jar of relish.”

You stuck your tongue out in utter disgust as he laughed at your reaction.

“They’re tastes you learn to love.”

“_Impossible_. Mustard? _Really?_ Normally to each their own, but that’s no better than chugging vinegar.” In this newfound, disgusting, revelation you manage to forget your own embarrassment for a moment.

“You get used to it. I picked up the habit when I was working at a hotdog stand. I wasn’t allowed to sample the merchandise. Merchandise being the ‘’dogs. Course, they never said I couldn’t snack on the condiments. One bottled turned into two, which turned into lunch.”

“Ew!” You pulled a face, shaking your head. “You must have been really brave or really hungry.”

“Counterpoint: too lazy to catch a real snack. ‘Sides, my bro makes sure I eat actual food every once in awhile. He caught me chugging mayonnaise out of the fridge one night like someone was coming to steal it, and that settled that. He’s the best.”

“Papyrus really is a sweetheart, isn’t he?” You said fondly, imagining Papyrus, who seemed to love cooking (one specific thing) catching his brother eating literal garbage.

“You can say that again. Back underground, he used to bring me spaghetti on my breaks. His spaghetti… well it’s a lot better now than it was then. Still though, he had to stop because I had way too many breaks to keep track of. Some of my _breaks_ had breaks.”

“What? Just how many jobs did you have?”

He started listing things off, counting on his phalanges casually, and you decided to stop him once he ran out of room on both hands.

“I think I get the picture… infinite jobs, basically. But _why?_” You asked him, bordering on incredulity. If he was as lazy as he made him out to be, this sounded counterintuitive.

“Infinite jobs means infinite breaks.” He stated this matter-of-factly, closing his eyes as he leaned against the counter. “Keep up, kid.”

“That’s now it works. And I’m not a kid.”

“I disagree. On both accounts.”

“Oh what, did time work differently underground?” You asked with a scoff, moving past the kid part. He opened his eyes, hitting you with a surprisingly hard stare.

“Yup. It jumped left and right all the time, sometimes stopping and then starting again.” His smiling gaze seemed to be weighing your reaction, and you scoffed, knowing he was just being purposefully facetious.

You laughed at his antics, covering your mouth to hide a partially chewed French fry in your mouth. You didn’t notice that his expression wasn’t jovial, that his smile was _not_ a facetious one. You didn’t notice, too busy thinking he was being ridiculous and joking, and you moved on.

“I don’t think I’ve ever held a steady job before. During the summer of my sophomore year, I used to help out with an ice cream stand. But I got fired on the summer I started working there.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind.”

“Ah, it wasn’t that big of a deal, I was used to that kind of thing. I messed up a customer’s change; I didn’t realize he’d given me a twenty, not a ten. When I tried to give him the correct change, I kept fumbling the drawer; the guy was angry and I was getting nervous. He ended up throwing his ice cream cone at me and storming off, saying something about me being freaky and suspicious. When the lady who ran the stand came to find out what happened, she was convinced I must have done something wrong and fired me on the spot.”

“Jeez, that’s a little harsh.” Sans looked slightly annoyed at your story, but you just shrugged.

“I had a feeling she was itching to get rid of me, even though I was the only other employee at the time. Not many people wanted to work at that stand, it wasn’t exactly prime business opportunities. But I was always nervous when working around people, and it was infectious. Eventually, people begin forming a bad profile about me, based on the noticeable trend: the weirdo at the ice cream stand makes them nervous. Obviously, that person must be up to something, or else why would I be so nervous around them…?”

You were explaining your reasoning to him—no, this irrefutable _fact_ that you’d grown up with—but he seemed to grow more and more agitated as you spoke. Eventually you trailed off, reviewing your words to figure out what you’d said to set him off.

“It’s not like you could help it.” His voice was devoid of any humorous pretenses, merely staring at you with a hard annoyance. You bristled at his look, looking down at the few French fries that remained on your plate, trying to figure out what you’d said.

“That’s not the point,” You explained. “None of that matters in the end. People can’t help the way they feel about me, and I can’t help being conscious of what other’s think of. It’s a vicious cycle, but it’s my life” You ended up laughing in a surprisingly bitter tone. “You’d think I’d have gotten used to by now, seeing as I had twenty-something years to cope with it. It all ends up blowing up in my face eventually, no matter how brave I try to be.”

“Things are different now, aren’t they?”

His words had you looking up to meet his gaze.

“I know for a fact there are humans out there not too shy about hiding their abilities. Why should you. A couple of groups have even rallied in support for monsters.”

You were quiet. Of course you’d heard of them via social media and whatnot, and you happy to see that you wouldn’t magically disappear in the dead of night if someone found out about your ability. But humans weren’t the same as monsters. Just as many still shunned magic, and unlike with monsters, who might be able to ignore your emotional presence, you couldn’t magically undo what you forced everyone to feel.

“That’s good for them.” You chose your words carefully, trying (and failing) not to sound too guarded. You didn’t want to argue about this, you didn’t want to point out that this kind of thing didn’t matter. For you, it wasn’t a fact of hiding yourself anymore—it was that you couldn’t help what other people thought of you. And that was just fine, most of the time. Even though you should have given up on trying, it wasn’t the end of the world anymore. You were mostly numb to this song and dance. But most importantly? It didn’t need to be his problem, save for the explanation.

Sans closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh, before he shifted his weight to lean one arm on the counter.

“Ya know, I used to work in the ice cream business myself.”

You felt sudden whiplash at the change of topic. Christ, and to think you were bad with social gaffes… that was the least smooth, most forced topic change you’d seen.

But you were happy for an excuse to drop the topic.

“Just how many jobs did you have—wait, don’t answer that one, _don’t_.”

He laughed, slightly forced, but seemed relieved that you were smiling and willing to follow suit.

“This one was short lived. I tried to become an entrepreneur in the fried snow business. But I had trouble putting on a professional air. That, and I kept losing track of my merchandise.

“Fried snow, wh—” You turned to him with a dry look, your second in less than thirty minutes.

“What’s with that look? Don’t tell me you _mist_ the joke?”

“_Icey_ hardly anything funny in your story.” You countered, smile widening.

“No need to _ice cream_ about it. _Snow_ problem if ice puns aren’t your thing.”

The two of you trade puns like this for a good while, eventually running out of ice and snow related ones and moving onto anything you could think of. At one point, Grillby set down another glass of juice in front of you to replace your old one, and you could swore you saw disappointment in those flames as we walked further into the bar to retreat from the pun assault. You feel bad laughing then, but the two of you are on a roll, stern conversation a thing of the past.

You loved laughing like this. You loved trading puns like a kid in lieu of the actual childishness you’d forsaken early on in your life. Wiping stray tears from your face, you were focused on funny conversations and shitty puns, not emotional barriers and feigned neutrality. For once, you weren’t thinking about how long this friendship was going to last, you were listening to stories of how Sans pranked Frisk hardcore underground.

“I didn’t think it’d actually work. No one’s fallen for that trick in like a good couple of months—no one who knows me, that is. But Frisk is fresh prank meat, and I’m only one monster. I see a hapless human kid wandering in the underground, I gotta prank ‘em. So I tell ‘em, hey this telescope’s pretty expensive, but since I know ya, you can look for free. They walk up to the telescope, excited, and start looking around. Little goof ball moves the telescope around for like a solid minute, trying to figure out what the hell’s going on, before letting me know it’s broken. Being the chill guy I am, I offer a full refund.

“S’anyways, they go to visit the nice cream, and I’m about to move out and take a shortcut to my next prank, when they stomp out, giving me the evil eye. Literally. There’s a huge purple paint circle on their eye from the telescope—”

“—You meanie—!”

“—And they point to their face. Now, I’m a guy well-versed in pranking. It’s the second best thing next to puns. But I can only go so long without laughing at my own jokes. Couldn’t help cracking up right in their face. Man, you should’ve seen their expression.”

You were laughing at his stories of Frisk, getting a good idea of how goofy the kid was. You knew their trek throughout the underground was supposedly a dangerous one, but from these endearing stories you couldn’t help but feel like they were a gentle soul.

You looked at Sans, his image blurred from cry-laughing, and saw him laughing alongside you—more so at your boisterous laughter than at anything he said. You wiped your face, apologizing, before he spoke up.

“You always cry when you laugh? No offense, but it’s kind of adorable.”

You’re not sure whether to blush at being called adorable, or ask him why you’d be offended at being called that. Your body takes the lead on that decision, feeling your face warm up, and you finish wiping your face.

“No, no, I try not to cry so often because I end up…” You took a deep breath, calming your nerves. No matter how or why you cried, you could never control the integrity of your barrier. Naturally, it’d came down when you were cry laughing like you were, so you instinctively tried to pull it back up.

Your smile dropped and your heart sank as a familiar yet unwelcome feeling filled out around you in place of your barrier, swirling around in your stomach and mixing with the knives in there, the anxiety churning within. You tried a second time to throw your barrier back up, and when you failed once again, you felt yourself going stock still.

\- - -

It was like someone flipped a switch, how quickly your lilting, contagious laughter froze over. He didn’t think he could feel cold, not in the same way warm and cold blooded monsters did, but it iced over him in the form of an emotional snow storm. Daggers filled his stomach in an icy, unpleasant anxiety, and it took him one, two seconds to realize what was going on.

He noticed when you initially dropped your barrier, the moment he got you cry laughing with his puns and stories. But he didn’t mention it because, well… Okay, this was a thought that would never leave the confines of his own mind, but he was relishing in your happiness. With every joke he told, you returned a genuine smile in earnest, and he felt like he was riding the clouds. Even if you couldn’t see the potential in your powers, of what could happen if you turned that ‘vicious cycle’ into a positive one, he couldn’t help but to enjoy your positive influence. He didn’t know if you were ready to face that music yet—if it was even his place to comment on it, but for now he was happy enough getting you giddy on jokes.

That’s what he thought, anyway.

That happiness drained away, replaced by a primal and anxious fear, your fear, and your deep trepidation. He was reminded of that day that felt like ages ago, when he’d first analyzed the chart readings and understood what it all meant—that was the kind of fear he felt.

You went quiet, turning from him and closing in on yourself, staring down at the bar silently. Usually, you were quick to reign everything back in, but this time you didn’t bring up your barrier.

“(Y/n)? You alright over there?” He asked gently. He wanted to use a pun, to lighten the situation and hopefully get you smiling again, but for once the vault was empty. And he wasn’t going to use the hot pun twice—that was just unprofessional.

“…can’t.” Was all you said. After that, you didn’t respond to his words and continued to stare down at the bar, eyes hidden from view.

The ice cold anxiety, he realized, was a controlled beast in comparison to the pure panic that began to assault him next. It was only just then that he saw the stiffness in your shoulders—the quick rise and fall of each breath. Too quick.

The other bar patrons, who he’d nearly forgotten about, were beginning to become affected by your aura. Whereas your giddy humor and joking demeanor had the bar alight with jovial conversation—humans joking with monsters, monsters with each other, and everyone happy—conversations were teetering off, coming to abrupt stops as panic seized people’s very souls. Eyes were darting around, looking for the source of their panic, wondering what was going, before all eyes stopped around a central target. Before, when they were all happy, nobody cared to find the source of it. It was a positive emotion, why bother? But now that their moods had taken an imperceptible drastic shift, everyone wanted to know why.

_‘Even if it’s hardly noticeable, it doesn’t take much to set people off. Just that tiny inkling is enough; they know to stay away from that weirdo who makes them nervous. I can’t help being even slightly nervous at all times. It’s not like I want to give everyone these bad feelings. But I can’t really help it.’_

It was like you were a beacon; even if they didn’t why they felt the way they did, everyone knew it was coming from you. You were the center of it all. Not every monster would be able to tell what was going on at first glance, and any humans here were just about close to shitting themselves. You’d explained it to him; your dreary world-view wasn’t from simple pessimism or a lack of trying. It was the pure bane of your existence. He of all people should’ve known better; he knew what it was like coming to terms with a source of despair. When it got that bad, you’d had already tried every route, coped in every way possible, but nothing could remedy the issue. So you simply resigned yourself to fate.

Underneath this forced sense of panic that was laced imperceptibly with magic, he could feel his own emotions surging forth:

Anger.

He was angry at your situation. Angry that the only thing he could do to help in this situation was feel sorry for you. Angry at himself for bringing you out here, as he realized a little too late what was going on. He realized two things, but only one was important right now.

Without having to look around the bar, you seemed to realize that everyone was looking your way. Your panic spiked, your breathing going scarily uneven, and his soul lurches at the familiar signs of a panic attack. You were beginning to pant, hands clutching the cloth of your pants at your knees as you tried futilely to stay calm. Instinctively he reached forward, saying something about getting out of here, when he realized too fucking late how you felt about being touched. You jerked away from him roughly, lowering your head as tears began to streak down your face. The bad kind of tears.

Grillby comes to your end of the bar, aware of what’s up, and he does a rare thing and speaks up in order to ask you a question.

“…something to drink?” His crackling voice asks, but you can’t even answer. You try to sign, but your hands are shaking too bad.

Sans took to his feet, knowing he needed to get you somewhere else to help calm you down. He’d had experience coaching himself out of a panic attack before, but he’d never helped anyone else. Still, he was all you had at the moment.

“Hey Grillbz, mind handing me the key to the backroom?” Sans asked, hand extended. Grillby doesn’t miss a beat, handing over an oversized and slightly heavy keychain—it made it difficult for people to ‘accidentally’ walk out with it.

“Hey, bud, let’s get to the bathroom. It’s quieter in there, and you can calm down better.”

You nod your head, trying to dismount from the bar stool. You do so without face planting, thank god, but your condition isn’t any better. You were still looking to the ground, faint of breath and crying between silent shuddering breaths.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You nod your head again, and then you do something that genuinely surprised him—you reached your hand out. He remembered coming to the obvious conclusion of why you were extremely touch averse; likely due to your powers. So he was a bit hesitant in taking your hand, wondering if he was reading that cue wrong. But when you didn’t jerk back like you had before, he began to lead you to the bathroom, putting an arm lightly around your shoulders to help lead you. Like this, even though you had an annoying two inches on his height, you seemed so small and vulnerable.

Your hand was warm and clammy, unsurprising, but the moment he touched a spark lit up at the tips of his bones. Was this a part of your magic, why you hated being touched? He didn’t have time to dwell on it as he led you to the back room—a bathroom, he realized it was.

It smelled weird, as human bathrooms were known for, but it was otherwise pretty clean, as it was in a new building. The sound of the bar, of the hushed and accusatory whispers, were a distant memory now, but you still weren’t any calmer.

Shit, think Sans, _think_. It’d been awhile since he’d had a panic attack, way back underground, and he tried to remember the methods he used. You needed a distraction from whatever was plaguing your psyche.

“Try to take deep, steady breaths. I know at a time like this it’s easier said than done, but I need you to put your hands behind your head and take deep breaths.”

Your arms were stiff and shaking, but you tried to follow his directions, at least getting your hands up. He needed to find a topic to ramble about, and quickly.

“Try to focus on my voice, and what I’m saying bud. You’re going to be alright.” He _sucked_ at consoling. He wanted to bash his skull in at how patronizing he sounded it, but it would have to do for now “I think I know what’s going on. Uh, aside from the obvious. But, it’s your magic right? It’s not working like it should, I’m guessing. Usually it worked without a second thought right? That’s because the surface was different back then. Not so saturated with magic like it’s becoming now. Before, your body had to grasp at any morsel of magic it found and work with that. Every mage did, basically recycling the magic left on the surface.

“If I had to spitball a hypothesis with no evidence, I’d say the amount of magic on the surface has been slowly dwindling, it not being a resource humans can generate, until the barrier broke. You guys have been stuck using the same magic for years, and whatever mages that managed to come forth have been rationing it unconsciously. But now that you’re in a place like Grillby’s chock full of magic, you’re like a starving monster trying to gorge themselves on an all-you-can eat buffet. Too much too soon after getting by on scraps, and you don’t know what to do with it all. Not only is it confusing and uncomfortable, but you have no idea how to control it.”

He was about to get tangential, about to go into the properties of monsters and humans like he was giving a lecture, when he realized that your breathing had calmed down alongside his rambling. You were peering down at him behind lidded, red eyes, tear streaks staining your cheeks. But you were looking at him, and not staring at the ground crying.

“Right.” You responded, voice hoarse. He breathed a small sigh of relief as you let out a much bigger one.

You closed your eyes again, sniffling and leaning against the wall with your arms still supporting it, but breathing much steadily than before. He was content to merely watch you, the slow rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evened out, the way your eyelids flickered at slight movement, and then he had to look away. You licked your lips, probably not even conscious of the action, as you made to speak. For some reason, he only became aware of his staring just then.

“I don’t know too much about magic or what it really means to be a mage. I don’t know _anything_ about _any_ of that, actually.” Your voice still wavered, unsteady, but at least present. “To me, this power just meant that we had to be careful. We had to be constantly monitored, or else something might happen to us. Like government whisks you away in the middle of the night happenings.”

There was a lot to unpack in that sentence—he didn’t even know where to begin. He knew that you had to keep your powers under wraps before the barrier broke, you’d let on to that, but the gravity of what it meant finally sunk in. Humans were so vindictive of any form of magic to the point where their hatred was not spared even for their own kind. He tried to set aside his own anger, put himself aside from this matter, and decided to keep you talking.

“Who is ‘us’?” He asked, genuinely curious. Your eyes flittered open, catching his gaze for a moment for focusing on some point in the mirror.

“Yeah… I had… I _have _a sister. We were both born with this ability to use magic, but she was on the other end of whatever spectrum I was on.”

“Whaddya mean by that?” He wanted to keep you talking, any topic really, so that you could forget about your panic attack.

“I can force everyone to feel what I’m feeling. My big sis, on the other hand, was forced to feel what everyone _else_ was feeling. We were both empaths, just different. I guess that’s why she never minded me, because my emotions were no more intense than anyone else’s. I always thought she was the one with the short end of the stick, but she took everything in stride. You’d never hear her complain though, at least not out loud. Even though it was hell on earth, she was so charismatic, drawing people in like flies even though they caused her physical pain. The polar opposite of me. And you know what the funny part was? Her empathy had the exact opposite effect on her—she could never tell whose emotions were whose, whether they were her own or someone else’s, so she ignored how everyone else was feeling. Still, she always strove to do the right thing and to be a good person. Whereas no matter how hard I try, I can't help but worry about everyone else, and no matter what I do, how 'good' I try to be…”

You trail off, not finishing the thought, but Sans didn’t need a degree to know where you were going with that tangent.

“Your sister sounds like a neat gal. I’d like to meet her some time, as a fellow older sib. Still, there’s no need to compare yourself to her. Quit selling yourself short already. We can’t help the card’s we’re dealt. Sure it’s easier to just accept the losing deal, but it’s a hell of a lot braver to make a winning hand from it.”

You scoffed at that, a sour expression marking your features.

“I wouldn’t know bravery if it slapped me in the face.” You said, and now it was Sans’s turn to scoff.

“Kid, you’re the textbook definition of Bravery.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I just had a panic attack because I was afraid of what others thought of me. That doesn’t quite ring up as brave.”

“You’re joking right now, right? Please tell me you’re joking and that I don’t have to school feed you facts about human souls.”

“Souls?” When you echoed the word back at him he realized in shock, oh god, humans didn’t even talk about their own _souls_. There was only one human who ever lived long-term underground but even _then_ babybones were given the bare minimum of info about how human and monster souls worked. But humans, being so afraid of magic… right. Any mention was taboo if you were so fearful of ‘disappearing’ when growing up.

“Yeah… whoo boy, I don’t think I’ve had to give this talk since Paps was old enough to dress himself.” He scratched the back of his skull, wondering where the hell to begin. “You see, your soul is… well it’s you. Your life force, the very culmination of your being if you wanna be textbook about it. Everything that’s alive has a soul with no exception… well, almost no exception.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, obviously wanting to know the exception, but he didn’t even want to get into that right now.

“Anyway, monsters’ souls are pretty cut and dry. Our souls are fused to our bodies, and can’t be as easily searchable as a humans. We still have our own categories, but for monsters we’re basically a mix of all seven attributes, just very small degrees. For humans, on the other hand, you guys tend to strongly present one aspect over anything else. Even though your body ain’t made of magic, your _soul_ is. It can exist without your body, even be visible outside of it. But I’m getting off topic here: seven categories. Patience, Bravery, Integrity, Perseverance, Kindness, Justice, and Determination. Each has an associating color, but I can get a pretty good grasp, even without seeing it up close.”

“What color is my soul?” You asked him, hanging on every word with child-like curiosity. He felt like he was teaching a grade-school class, just a second away from using his 'I’m talking to a child goochee goo' voice before he caught himself.

“It ain’t obvious? Yours is the soul of Bravery. Impulsive and rushing headlong into things, always quick to rise in defense of yourself or others.”

“I don’t want to sound like a Debbie Downer, but I’m the exact opposite of that. I represent the literal exact opposite of that, I don’t do _any_ of those things!”

Sans sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he spoke.

“There’s two sides to every aspect. Depending on the person, one side of a soul category can end up taking priority over the other, usually through hardship and negative experiences. For Determination, there’s hopelessness. For Integrity, there’s dishonesty, Justice is corruption, etc. I’m sure you can guess what the counterbalance for Bravery is.”

“A coward through and through.” Your voice was soft, heartbreakingly so.

When he opened his eyes, your expression was defeated, and he could still feel your emotions ever present, your barrier still gone. His words struck a nerve, an obvious one, but he wasn’t going to lie on this biology lesson.

“These two can’t exist without another. At some point, you’re going to feel one stronger than the other, no matter what. Feeling discouraged now doesn’t mean you won’t ever be brave in your life. Uh, sorry for sounding like a cheesy comic book protagonist, but there’s… greatness in you. At the end of the day, you’ll always be a brave person. It’s literally written in your soul.”

You laughed again, but it wasn’t a sardonic one.

“You sound _very_ cheesy. I needed the anime pep talk. But… thanks for the lesson.”

“I’m always game for impromptu bathroom teachings/pep talks. What else do you humans use these rooms for?”

He was joking, of course, but your expression clued him in that you thought he might be half serious. He did _not_ want a human biology lesson right now. At least not about _that_.

Your wipe your face as you come to a stand, turning to face Sans.

“Sorry for you losing it back there. I just couldn’t get my barrier back up, like you said, and that kind of thing had never happened before. At least not like that. I didn’t know what to do, I kept thinking about all the wrong things, and before I knew it, my vision was going dark, and I…”

“Hey, hey, don’t sweat it kid. It’s easy to lose sight of perspective. I’ve been in your shoes before.”

“I doubt that.” You said. He was about to protest, but there was playful edge in your voice as you continued. “For someone so short, your feet look _huge_.”

“Low blow, I’m sensitive about that.” He put a hand to his chest, feigning hurt as you laughed. “To think, I thought you and I were on better footing.”

“Sorry Sans, but when it comes down to it, you just don’t measure up.”

“I had a feeling the two of us were coming up short. Alright, alright, I don’t say this often, but no more puns. Whatever you’re about to say, stall it, and let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

You had been poised to make another height pun, but deflated once he put a stopper on it.

“But what about my bill? We can’t just skip out on it!” You argued.

“S’cool, me and Grillby go way back. I’ll put it on my tab, he knows I’m good for it.”

“I brought my own money, you don’t have to—” You were digging around your pockets, reaching for your wallet, but he put up a hand to stop you.

“Save it buddy. It’s the least I can do for bringing you out here. I can’t help but feel a little guilty. I’m the guy who brought you to a crowded place full of magic, and look where that got you.”

“You couldn’t have known this was going to—”

“I’ve got it covered, (Y/n).” He said it with an air of finality, and you finally conceded and let him have his way, though you were pouting something fierce.

“Come on, let’s head back. I know a shortcut from here.”

\- - -

The day could have gone… Better. It certainly could have been worse, but hey, at least the food was good. You wanted to remember the day for the fun you were having with Sans, just sitting around trading jokes and talking like old pals.

You hated panic attacks. You could deal with them on your own, in privacy, but you hadn’t had one in public in a long time. The last time, you think, you were very young, just starting high school, and your sister who had just graduated was there to coach you through it, in a much similar way that Sans had. Only she had been telling you about motorcycles, and her drive down to her university in Denver. Even though it was a sour stain on the day, you somehow felt… closer to him now.

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

The two of you step through the bathroom door, and you’re not surprised when instead of the smell of burgers and fries, you’re greeted by the dusty and polished smell of your apartment hallway. You took a deep breath, relief flooding you when the familiar sensation of your barrier washed over you.

“Jeez, how late is it? Were we really talking for that long?” You look out the window, noticing the orange hues fading in the sky. It was gradually seeping into the colder months—not quite time for snow and not quite sweater weather, but heading there. You didn’t think much of it when Sans didn’t respond to your question, pulling out your phone and realizing you’d left it on silent.

You had pulled out your phone to check the time, but you were instead greeted by twenty missed calls and a horrible assortment of texts. All from your mother.

“_You._”

A scornful, vindictive tone from your childhood assaulted your ears.

There had been days when you were late on the bus home. When you’d be greeted promptly by a smack to the face like it was clockwork. More a display of dominance than it was borne of genuine concern. There were days when you’d already be home, but it was midnight when your sister waltzed. Then, she’d hit harder, trying to elicit a reaction from you sister. She went easy on you; you were the obedient target. But no matter what level of rebellion, this was the thing that never changed; her voice when she scolded you.

“You _idiot_. You rueful, horrible child. Do you know how _long_ I—”

You turned to face her, eyes wide like you were back high school again, waiting for a scolding and instinctively bracing yourself, when she cut herself off. Her eyes darted to your left, and to your horror you realized Sans was next to you. You stomach sunk, fear replacing your resolute nervousness, when you realized she was about to make a scene in front of him. You felt rooted to place, too nervous to speak in fear of starting up another panic attack.

“Is this what you’ve been doing? Ignoring me and doing god knows what with a _monster_. Your own _mother_ has been calling you and calling you and_ calling you_, and you choose to ignore me for this… thing? Does family mean nothing to you?”

Your heart breaks when you see her gesture to him like he’s a piece of garbage on the street. But another emotion surprises you. Beneath that fearful storm boiling in you was anger and indignation. She had _no_ _right_ to speak to him like that. To embarrass you out in the hall like this. You didn’t see Sans’s expression, and he hadn’t said a word so far, but your mother was staring at him looking purely scandalized.

“Learn your place, cretin. Who exactly do you think you’re looking at like that? You think I don’t know what your kind think? You think you’re better than me? You may have that idiot child fooled, but I’ll be damned if I sit by and let your kind do as they please. If you knew your place you’d stay in line.”

You heard him shift behind you, and oh god the only thing on your mind right now was what he must be thinking of you. This woman had been the second hell that plagued you. If it wasn’t your powers, it was her constant reminder that you would never amount to anything, no matter how hard you tried. It was her constant physical and verbal abuse growing up. That was why you’d moved halfway across the start—part of the reason, at least. But you didn’t want to do this out here. Not in front of him. You tried to steel yourself, tried to summon that Bravery Sans said you had.

“I—”

“Shut up.” She cut you off abruptly, marching forward, hand raised. For a moment, you braced yourself for impact, any hope of a brave conflict lost upon you as you flinched and closed your eyes.

To your surprise and relief, however, she grabbed your wrist and the keys in your hand, which had been pulled out alongside your phone.

“We need to have a talk.”

She dragged you over to your doorway, forced your keys out of your hand, and unlocked the door before practically throwing you inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks are no fun D:  
I have pretty good road map for the fic so far. Things are going well! I've also added some new tags that are... pretty important.  
I am absolutely stoked by the support I'm receiving. From the bottom of my heart, *thank you*. This fic is basically a vent fic with a splash of magic and plot, but y'all have been coming out of the woodwork with support and I'm so grateful.


	6. Oh Boy Three AM!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm here late with starbucks how's everyone doing.

Sans noticed her the moment he stepped through the door. The hallway was awash with orange light, but she was standing in front of your apartment door, tapping angrily into a cellphone. Your voice rang out into the hall, surprisingly chipper for all that happened, and the woman immediately zeroed in on it, expression morphing into pure unadulterated rage.

“_You_.” She marched forward, eyes on you, having not noticed Sans yet. Her eyes screamed bloody murder, and her stance showed that whatever she was about to do, she was practiced in it.

“You _idiot_. You rueful, horrible child. Do you know how _long_ I—”

Her words sputtered to a stop, seeming to realize that she had an audience. She seemed to recognize Sans, but her demeanor didn’t lighten in the slightest once she realized someone else was witnessing this. In fact it seemed to have somehow soured immensely at the mere sight of him, and he didn’t need a Ph.D. to figure out why. She was a bigot through and through; her hatred was painted into the deepest folds of her face.

“Is this what you’ve been doing? Ignoring me and doing god knows what with a… a _monster_. Your own _mother_ has been calling you and calling you and_ calling you_, and you choose to ignore me for this… _thing?_ Does family mean nothing to you?”

You cringed at her words, head cowed in mortification. You didn’t need to be an empath for him to know what you were feeling. But still, even though your barrier was back in action, he could feel the silk thin shreds of dread and fear contained within you. He doesn’t even care that she’s gesturing and pointing to him like he’s the boogeyman; he’s used to it. Ebott Valley was considered the poster child for monster and human relations, but it was far from a utopia. Bigotry always reared its ugly head around every corner. For every group of kind and accepting humans, there was another bigot screaming about locking his kind back underground. And if you decided to venture outside of Ebott? Have mercy on your soul.

But he recognized an abuser when he saw one. The telltale reactions that were trained into your muscles, how this woman, your mother, used this to her advantage. Manipulating you emotionally wasn’t enough for her, she wouldn’t hesitate to put her hands on you. Would she dare do it while he was standing right here? He could feel a momentary surge of magic in his bones at the idea of this woman trying to lay a hand on you. He knew his eyes went dark, and the lady in front him grimaced.

“Learn your place, cretin. Who exactly do you think you’re looking at like that? You think I don’t know what your kind think? You think you’re better than me? You may have that idiot child fooled, but I’ll be damned if I sit by and let your kind do as they please. If you knew your place you’d stay in line.”

He clenched his fist, his smile going taught with his own rage as the lights returned back to his eyes. If he were being honest with himself, he wanted to do one of two things right now.

Put this bitter old hag in her place.

Or grab you and teleport somewhere else.

Neither was a realistically viable option. Beating up a human, no matter how dumb they were, was not a smart move despite what was happening. And he wasn’t sure how you’d react to him suddenly grabbing you. Not positively, that much was for certain. And no matter what, he couldn’t magically make this stressful situation vanish for you. You would have to deal with it no matter what. But there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to you.

By his side, he heard you shift, a slight intake of air as you tried to speak.

“I—”

“Shut up.” The woman moved forward, hand raised, and in that moment Sans was seeing red. The way her arm was raised, above her head in a practiced moment, he knew she was actually dumb enough to try it. You had flinched, faced turned to the side in an attempt to minimize anything that was happening. He could feel magic pulsing around him, his eyes going dark, one flashing, when she seemed to notice him. Her trajectory faltered, and she instead reached down to grab your wrist painfully.

“We need to have a talk.” She gave him a pointed glare, cast over her shoulder, as she forced you into the apartment.

Just like that, you were gone.

But his anger was still present.

There were rushed footsteps and muffled yelling, the conversation fading.

He swore on everything, from the angel of the underground to the sun in the sky, if she tried to hurt you…

Sans put a hand to his forehead, trying to calm himself down. His magic still swelled around him, potent and dangerous, and he felt his left eye go dark, before finally the lights in his eyes returned. He was breathing heavily, trying to restrain from doing anything royally stupid.

This was a perfectly normal reaction, he justified to himself. You were his friend—you didn’t know each other long, but damn it he’d known Frisk half a day for them to gather a place in his heart. And that wasn’t counting any number of resets that had occurred, previous versions of himself that he’s forgotten. At the end of the day he was a monster, and much to his partial chagrin, he was bound to get attached quickly.

But even _then_. Even _aside_ from his inexplicable need to be an uncharacteristic knight in shining armor, what self-respecting person would turn a blind eye to a person so unabashedly cruel? Not Sans, that much was for certain. He wouldn’t be able to live himself.

That was his justification, he told himself, when he still sitting outside in the hallway an hour later when your mother finally emerged.

He was sitting on the staircase that was leading upstairs. In that time, only one person had passed through the hallway, their mutual neighbor Carlos. He had been carrying a huge portfolio in his hand, when he exited the elevator, his back turned to Sans. He didn’t notice Sans, but he did pause in front of your door as he passed. It was subtle, the negative emotions that flowed out. A hint of smoke to signal that somewhere there was a fire. He shuddered and kept moving on.

Sometime later, that woman came back out. She almost walked right past him, until she jumped back with a shocked gasp.

“You _disgusting—_You have no right to still be in this building. _Get out immediately_.” She recovered from her initial shock moving into outrage immediately. He laughed, dry and rueful, right at her face as he stood.

“Lady, I _live_ here. You’re the uninvited guest, last time I checked.”

“Uninvited? Where do you get off speaking to me as if we’re equals? I have half a mind to—”

“Hello there!”

Sans felt his heart literally sink as he heard the familiar sound of his brother’s voice, cheery and oblivious. He snapped his head to his left, catching sight of his brother on their floor’s landing, smiling cheerily in his “Jogboy” outfit. He was looking at your mother with nothing but kindness in his eyes, but her expression turned horribly dour.

“This building has turned into a _pigsty_. You freak shows are _everywhere_.” She spat venomous words, not even caring as Papyrus’s face took a nosedive, crestfallen. A horrible pang rushed through him, seeing his brother’s . She looked from him back to Sans, but he knew his expression was that of a protective-driven murderous intent. She gasped, jumping back, and sans went with the momentum, stepping forward.

“_Get out._”

The woman went ashen, stumbling past Papyrus, who moved out of her way quickly. She was down the stairs in a rush, but he caught her saying something that made his bones go cold.

“…Moving them out of here…”

As she stomped off, throwing no small amount of bitter glances, Papyrus continued up the stairs, turning to him. Sans knew that he was still visibly angry, judging from his younger brother’s nervous glances.

“Is something wrong, brother? Who was that woman?” Papyrus asked, in a small voice that broke his heart. Sans sighed, forced himself to calm down, for his smile to look so pissed off. When he turned to his brother, he was back to his usual self, and he saw Papyrus’s demeanor lift slightly.

“No one important.”

“Were you two arguing?”

“Not really. She was just leaving.” Sans wanted to dismiss the conversation, so before his brother could ask anymore questions, he decided to get them talking about something else. “Tell me about your day, bro. Anything cool happen?”

“…What a ridiculous question! Of course! Cool things only ever happen to the Great Papyrus.” Papyrus hesitated before responding, obviously picking up on the forced topic change, but Sans was just happy he went with it regardless. They went back into their apartment, Sans keeping his brother talking, all the while wondering what he was going to say (Y/n), how he was going to make sure they were okay. A day that was already sour for them was more likely upgraded to the ‘piss-poor’ tier after that. He just needed to make sure they were okay.

\- - -

Her words were dripping into the background, and you were slipping into a familiar but unwelcome feeling—submission and cowardice.

“…Calling you and calling you for so long. I drove all the way out here, to the middle of the city where you ran away to, and I come to find out you’ve been spending your time with that—those—_things_.”

A flash of anger took you over, and you dared to look her in the eye. For a moment, you weren’t even holding back any malice.

“They’re not things, they’re _people_.” You say carefully, trying to keep your tone steady as anger welled within you. Your mother blinked in surprise, honestly not expecting you to talk back, before turning her nose up in indignation.

“They’re _monsters_, abominations. Who do you think you’re taking that tone with? Where exactly do you get off, trading your only family for a literal skeleton thing.”

“He’s my friend.” You clench your fists, looking away and trying to calm down.

“Oh yes, a _friend_. It’s so nice that you moved halfway across the state, away from your mother, your only family, to make friends with literal monsters. Don’t think I don’t _know_ that you hate me. The only family you have left and you dare leave me all alone.”

“It’s… It’s normal for people to move out when they’re adults—” Your bravado was slipping, and your mother was quickly gaining ground where you faltered.

“Not so far away that I have to panic every time you don’t answer your phone. Do you know what they’ve been sending me in the mail? Have _you_ even been checking your mail?”

She had you there; you don’t recall the last time you checked your mailbox. Your mother pulled something out of her purse, urgent looking documents, and shoved them in your face.

“Because of those damned things coming to our country, they’re not going to send us our checks. You have to go down there and speak to them, here, it’s written on this paper.”

You’re too busy reading the letter addressed to your mother—specifically your entire family—to correct her on the fact that monster kind never technically left the country in the first place. The letter was worded carefully, slightly vague, but you knew what it was referring to in regards to “benefits.” Your mother summarized the gist of it.

The letter explained that you needed to call the provided number and schedule an appointment to “discuss the continuation or cessation of your state-provided benefits.”

You weren’t that surprised to see the letter—actually, you were surprised that it took the government this long after the monsters emerged to come to this point.

“I have to call them…” You explained. “To ‘discuss the continuation or cessation of our state-provided benefits.’”

“You’ll call them and speak to them as soon as possible. They can’t cut us loose, we’ll starve. And you can’t get a job the way you are, hell, you’re practically disabled. They’re going about giving monsters rights they may as well mark you off as broken too.”

“Mhm.” You just grunt in affirmation, hardly listening and not letting the aftertaste of her vitriol get to you further. Or were you just burnt out already from that confrontation out in the hall? No, never mind—the pang of horror at the reminder that Sans bore witness to who you shared blood with showed you that you still had the energy to care.

You let your mother continue to rant for a few minutes more—she simply went on and on about what you should say, how you should dress, how to behave, and to make sure they believed you were pathetic enough. You had begun to tune her out at one point, a necessity for maintaining what little of your mental health hadn’t deteriorated long ago.

Finally, _finally_, she got tired of hearing her voice, and she let you be for the evening.

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath and let out a big sigh, trying to expel at least a little bit of the anxiety within you all without letting go of your barrier. It didn’t help much. You didn’t feel any better. In this situation, the best way to not feel anything was to go to sleep.

You’re halfway up the stairs when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. _Ignore it_, the old and wise part of your subconscious said. Save it for tomorrow, for another and more refreshed version of yourself that was fit for the task.

Against better judgement, you read the text message on your lock screen.

‘hey. ’

You had a foot on the next stair above you, but you didn’t continue going up it. You didn’t want to have this kind of conversation so soon. But would it be too weird and awkward to ignore his text? And for how long could you ignore the text before it became too awkward to respond and you couldn’t come up something feasible to say.

Then and there, you decided to tap into the last reserves of your energy for the day and play damage control. Perhaps you could save face in this situation and play things off, or at the very least, let him know you don’t approve of your mother’s views. Perhaps that was the foolish, optimistic part of you speaking, but damn it you were already typing.

‘Hey,’ You start out, and see that he’s typing up a reply. But you keep typing, and eventually he stops to wait for you. You go all in, not even bothering to beat around the bush. ‘I should probably apologize for how my mother behaved back there. I’m sorry you had to hear the things she said, but thankfully she doesn’t come around here often’

‘Still, you shouldn’t have had to see that,’

You pressed send on both messages before you could stop yourself, just get it out there and over with, like a scab or an old band-aid.

‘that kinda thing doesn’t really bother me’

His reply takes a while to come.

‘ya may not know this but there are a LOT of humans like her. can’t say i haven’t heard it all before. im more concerned about you’

There’s a pause between messages, long enough for your eyes to widen and your breath to catch—was he wondering if you shared any of her bigoted views? No, there’s no way he could think that, but perhaps the run in with your mother left such a sour taste that he was having second thoughts. Before you can stew in this possibility for too much longer, he sent another text.

‘i was texting to see if you were doing ok’

You blink in surprise before sending out an astonished reply.

‘Of course I’m okay’ You lied, though you were a bit confused by the question. Even though your mother stressed you to no end, it was Sans that should be offended here, not you. Why would you not be fine?

‘you sure? you seemed pretty tense early’ Yet still, he kept pushing it. You were fine. _Fine!_ You kept repeating the phrase in your head, embarrassment gripping your heart as you remember your mother’s words out in the hall. A voice spoke up, the pessimism to remind you of what must certainly be fact—that he was checking to see if this was going to be the norm, so he could know if he should cut his losses already and move on.

“I’m fine.” You spoke the words aloud as you typed the reply. Neither you nor the text seemed very convincing.

‘ok. cool. but if u need to talk im ur skeleton’

You found yourself simply staring at the text, as if trying to decode some hidden meaning. It should be _you_ asking if _he_ was okay, not the other way around. But it was too late, and you were coming out of this feeling like you’d only made matters worse. In your head, you kept trying to think of something to say, something that would magically make you feel better and assure him that everything was just fine and dandy, that this sort of thing wouldn’t happen again. But most importantly, that you were fine—_why would not be fine! _You’re used to this_._

Of course, you had nothing left to say—no matter how nice Sans was, no matter how many jokes the two of you could sling back and forth, no one actually wanted to be an ear to vent to, and you weren’t about to push your luck and come across as even more pathetic. It was a kind thing to say, yes, but you were aware of the reality of the situation, you understood your place. And this was far from a pessimistic view, this was just how the world went around, in your eyes.

Fruitless attempts to distract yourself by watching shows, to try and glean some meaning out of the evening, were just that—fruitless. You went to bed confused, but tired all the same.

-

When you woke up the next morning, you had an unread text. You don’t need a doctorate to figure out it’s probably from Sans, sending you another lame but enjoyable joke. Still though, you don’t respond, and for good reason too. You needed to schedule this appointment, and had to wake up at a reasonable time to do it, too. Not only did you need to call within a certain timeframe, but you also needed to psyche yourself up to make a phone call. Yesterday had been emotionally taxing, yes, but nothing activated your social anxiety quite like making a phone call.

So you dialed the county office number, going through a series of button prompts until eventually you got put on hold to talk to someone. You didn’t need to make county calls like this often, but it did need to happen occasionally. You knew as a child and teen that the government took care of base necessities for your family, considering the “condition” you and your sister had. Your mother never bothered to support the two of you more than she needed to, and when you finally came of age and the responsibility fell into your hands, you had to be the one to schedule these yearly meetings. One thing you noticed is that you never had to wait on the line long—you supposed there weren’t many mages this side of Colorado in the last couple of centuries.

You could finally let out a breath of relief when the appointment was made—one week from today. You had only a general idea what would be happening, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to be the usual magic-physical. Once a year they’d chart your magic, to see how high or low it was, probably to make sure you weren’t using it without permission. Of course, you and your sister had always been special cases, unable to fully make your magic disappear, they could only make sure that you weren’t purposefully using it. They’d interview your immediate family, watch the school, the normal creepy government things. Things were going to go different this time around, now that the jig was up and humanity’s dark secret was roaming the earth freely once more.

Times were changing, for better or for worse, but like any normal person you feared the unknown. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold a steady job, not with your unstable emotions and depression chipping away at any energy you can manage to keep up. And god knows your mother was hardly self-sufficient throughout the years—back then, when she wasn’t relying on the monthly paychecks she was dipping into your dying grandmother’s pension. Yet still, there was never enough food on the table. The only responsible person in your life, your sister, was gone. Now should’ve been the wakeup call to get your act together, to “pick yourself up by your bootstraps” and miraculously overcome the odds. But your life was no fairy tale with a happy ending. All you could do was wait and see what happens. It was all you had the energy to do anymore.

You didn’t reply to Sans’s text, instead opting to continue your sleep once the appointment was scheduled.

-

You were basically waking up from the dead when you opened your eyes again. The sun was up, but not bright—was it still early morning? A buzz on your phone went ignored as you pulled yourself out of bed. You surprised yourself with the energy to make a bowl of cereal. After it was quickly downed, you marched right back to bed; it was far too early for you to be awake. Yet if you had been more awake, hell if you had even bothered to check your phone, you would have realized that it was not, in fact, early in the morning—but late in the evening.

This came as a shock to you, for when you woke up from your midmorning/afternoon nap, it was pitch black outside. As you rolled over in your bed, eyes adjusting to the darkness, you wondered if you had dreamt even waking up to schedule the appointment. Then, you wondered an even more unlikely scenario; you wondered if you’d slept and then gone back in time. Finally, the fog cleared from your mind and you realized the obvious answer that no, you had simply slept all day yesterday. Checking your phone revealed in fact that yes, it was in fact two o’clock in the morning. It was the middle of the night and you were wide awake. Only god could save your sleep schedule now.

Part of you was excited to have slept through all of yesterday—you had a short burst of energy that could only come from beating sleep deprivation. But your fatigue was chronic, and it was only a matter of time before it returned in full force, likely to be strengthened by the fact that your circadian rhythm was going to be out of whack for a while. But it was nothing another day of sleep couldn’t fix.

Yet still, you contained an unbidden restlessness; you felt like you needed to do something productive. It was a feeling that didn’t overcome you often, but you were unable to ignore it nevertheless. Maybe play a game? Read a book? You pushed yourself out of bed, fumbling for the light switch before wincing at the brightness. You lifted your arms above your head, stretching and setting the bones in your back right before looking around. A quick glance around your room told you that it was not in horrible condition. The pile of dirty clothes could go, however. Oddly enough, doing laundry at two in the morning was not a bold move for you; you were less likely to run into anyone, and you had the peace and quiet to just sit around in the laundry room with only the hum of the machine to distract you.

You quickly gathered up all your clothes into a basket, throwing on your hoodie. Your pajama pants would have to do; you didn’t need to go out to exchange quarters, because thankfully the laundry room downstairs had a machine that accepted credit cards.

You made your way downstairs in a wholly uneventful sequence, and as you tapped the end of your key fob against the door to open it, you were greeted with the delightful scent of fabric softener on drying clothes. However, belatedly, you realized that meant someone was using the room. The dryer was going, a steady rhythm with only ten minutes left, and you felt yourself regretting coming down here. Who else on earth does laundry at this ungodly hour? Functioning members of society were supposed to sleep at night, while you and you alone could do laundry after accidentally sleeping an entire day away.

In the end, you decided to try and grab your quarters and load the washing machine before whoever it was came back. You wanted to avoid any kind of contact.

You managed to finish loading your clothes into the machine and get it started. Once you hit the button, you were going to make a speedy getaway to avoid any awkward confrontations, but you stopped. The swirling of the machine as it filled with water, the back and forth movements… You were always a moth to flame when it came to watching the laundry, it was why you didn’t mind sitting down her sometimes. It was a shame some other insomniac decided to do their laundry as well.

“Cough cough.”

You gasped softly, eyes widening as your gaze snapped to the table pressed against the wall. You were met with a grinning face, situated on the table, his hands clasped in front of him.

“What, you told me to cough next time.” He shrugged at your surprised face as he winked. “Did I still scare you?”

You blinked for a moment, wondering how he got through the door without using his key, then remember that he could literally teleport. Setting aside the worrying thought that locked doors meant nothing to this skeleton, you gave him a small wave so as not to appear rude. You forced an awkward smile upon yourself, glancing around the room—anything to avoid eye contact really.

“Y-Yeah, a little. Well for once, you haven’t snuck up on me crying, or doing something equally embarrassing.” You regret saying the last part the moment it left your mouth, but it was out there, in the wind, and the joke didn’t quite land.

There’s an awkward pause, and you’re debating filling it with conversation or attempting to run for the door. You’re still thinking about the previous night—the night before? Your internal clock was still off—and you aren’t sure what to say. Come to think of it, you didn’t read either of his texts from earlier—at least you assumed they were from him.

“So, you a fellow three am laundry enthusiast too?” Sans asked you, perhaps noting that you were eager for something to be said.

“Is it three am already? I could have sworn it was 2:30… Well it’s the best time to do laundry. Usually there’s no one around.”

“Up all night? Ya don’t look very tired for someone up at three am.”

“I…. may or may not have slept the entire day on accident.”

Sans shook his head, tisking and wagging his finger.

“And here I was thinking you were some sort of three am pro. You have to pace your naps, an hour here, a few Z’s there, not all at once like a mad man.”

You glanced at him, snorting softly and unable to keep from smirking.

“I wasn’t aware irregular sleeping was a professional sport. Any tips I can glean from you, o wise one?”

“Hey now, I’ll have you know I take napping very serious. When it comes to squeezing in shut eye, no one else has me beat.”

“I think I may be able to compete.” You said brazenly, crossing your arms to take on some mock confidence.

There’s another dip, a pause, and you can feel your bravado fading alongside the heat of joking around. Once again, Sans is the one to break the silence.

“I, uh, hate to sound like a broken record here, but I just wanted to make sure that you’re—”

“Fine? Yeah, I’m fine.” You cut him off, sounding curt and stiff, more so than you intended to. You glance his way, to find that he’s looking at you intently. You can’t help but think about that moment in the hall, how embarrassed you felt that he had to see her. Sure he said it was fine and that he was used to people like your mother, but if he still asking about you, perhaps he was just being nice about it. You couldn’t help wondering what he must think, how he must be wondering if this is the norm.

“My mother doesn’t live near here.” You stare back down at the washing machine, watching the clothes swish back and forth. “She… visits every once in awhile—not often, though, so you probably won’t run into her again.”

“Doesn’t matter if I meet her again, I’ll still run into people like her. Her brand of bigotry ain’t original, just outspoken. Besides, I doubt I’ve seen the worst of that lady. I’m asking about you here, not her. I’m no scientist—well I actually _am_ a scientist, but I don’t need to be one to say that you’ve probably had to put up with the worst of it.”

“You’re a scientist?”

“Off topic.” He wasn’t going to let you steer the conversation away that easily.

You offhandedly fidget with the end of your hoodie, trying to think of what to say and how to say it. You knew you shouldn’t try to play it cool; though you hadn’t known him long, Sans had seen you vulnerable far too many times for you to be as bashful as you were feeling. But for some reason, perhaps because it was seldom approaching, nothing seemed more shameful than broaching anything involving your childhood. It wasn’t just your emotions that made it a living hell, it was a culmination of the two: your mother and your power.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You say, trying to sound flippant. You look up at him, eyes wrenched away from the washing machine for a moment, and see that he looks wholly unconvinced. You laughed, dry, as you shifted on your feet.

“No really; you get used to that kind of behavior. I had to, or else I would have never survived my childhood. It’s not like I could’ve avoided her. Growing up was never made easy, but I moved out here so I wouldn’t have to live under the same roof anymore. Sure, I have to put up with her sometimes, but I’m used to it. That’s why, even if you’re used to people like her, I need to apologize. No one else should have to put up with it.”

“But _you_ have to put up with it for some reason?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

You opened your mouth to speak, to protest that it was somehow different for you. How could you explain this in a way that made sense? Of course you had to put up with this, because…

“She’s the only family I have left.” You murmured, not meaning to say the words out loud, but it was too late. They were already out there. Sans shifted from his seat on the table, jumping down to come stand next to you.

“What about your older sis?” He asked, and you felt a pang in your heart that you thought you’d gotten over. It’s already been five years, yet you still couldn’t accept certain facts.

“My sister… isn’t around anymore. She went missing a couple of years ago. No one knows what happened to her.” You admitted. “Even though my mother isn’t exactly the most tolerable of people, she’s the only family I have left.”

“Doesn’t gotta stay that way.” Sans said. You turned to him, eyebrow raised, and fix him with a confused look.

“You can find family in weird places. If the people who’re related to you by blood or dust aren’t around or aren’t the best, other family ends up popping up in strange ways.”

He gave you a cryptic smile in response to your confused frown before continuing.

“Take Frisk for example. They were in the underground barely a day, and now you’d need surgical scissors to separate any monster from their side.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh at that, but you doubted that was far from the fact; from what you’ve seen and heard about Frisk, this seemed to be the whole truth.

“Sorry, Sans, but I’m not some charismatic nine year old ambassador. People aren’t standing line waiting to join my shoddy family.”

“I completely disagree with that statement.” Sans said. “You have at least one person in line.”

“Oh? And who might that be.”

“Isn’t it obvious? Papyrus. I, uh, hope you don’t mind, but I mentioned you weren’t feeling well after Grillby’s. I didn’t go into any specifics, but he was worried sick about you. You never answered his text so now’s the perfect time to invite you to anime movie dinner night.”

“To _what_ dinner night?” You repeated.

“Ya know, anime. Those weird cartoons for kids. Alphys and Undyne go crazy for anime, but Papyrus kind of hates it. Still, he likes hanging out with his friends more than he dislikes anime. And he’d be psyched if you could come along too.”

You were surprised to hear Papyrus worrying after you, though all signs showed that this shouldn’t be shocking. From what you could gather about him, he was a very caring and warmhearted monster—but it was that exact thing that scared you. Fondly, and with no small amount of embarrassment, you remember how you cried when he gave you that slice of pie. Kindness like that… it still clashed with your worldview, and you were having trouble rationalizing it. Finding people who liked you well enough, despite everything you had going for you, and that they’d want to consider you family…

It just wasn’t realistic.

And yet…

“Can I count on you making it?” Sans looked at you, hopeful, though you could tell he was also prepared for you to turn him down.

“When is anime movie dinner night?” You asked.

“Day after tomorrow. We could swing by around 6 to grab you. Whaddya say? Come hang out, have some good food and bad laughs and ever badder anime.”

“I can’t possibly say no to a deal as good as that.”

“It’s a once in a life time opportunity that happens every other week. You’d be insane to pass it up.”

At the time, the dryer decided to beep, signaling the cycle had come to an end.

“That’s my cue.” Sans walked over to the dryer. You noticed he didn’t have a basket or even a bag on hand and, as you suspected, he grabbed everything out of the dryer and held it his arms in one warm, nice-smelling ball of clothing. It was a surprising amount of clothing, but you figured hey, Papyrus at the very least seemed fashion forward. As he made his way to the door, he looked over his shoulder one last time.

“Catch ya later, (Y/n).” He leaned against the push bar on the door, stepping out into the hallway, right as you waved your goodbye.

The laundry room was silent, save for the gentle swishing of the washing machines and the dull, ignorable buzzing of the overhead lights. There was still twenty minutes left on the washing machine; not enough time for you to justify heading up stairs for any reasonable amount of time. You decided to wait in the room, watching the cycle between bouts of checking your phone.

The conversation with Sans was, of course, still fresh on your mind.

You liked to think of yourself as a person that valued normalcy, and that you’d had the world figured out by now. At least, in regards to how it treated _you_. There were certain undeniable rules you realized growing up. And one after the other, these rules were being smashed to pieces. Kindness from strangers was a fleeting and passing thing. Long-time friends were a foreign concept. You were still waiting for these rules to reapply, for their smashed pieces to come crashing down and cut you up for dare denying their rigidity. And here you were, playing the part of the fool, as your fears were disproved over and over. Sans was selling himself short; it wasn’t just his brother showing you inexplicable kindness. Though no one was around to see, you covered your mouth at the smile that began to grow and replace your frown.

The idea of finding people who wanted to be there for you, like some sort of idealistic found family trope…

You were playing with fire here, and at this rate you were being too drawn to the warmth to fear getting burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a long time coming, and took too effin long to come out. I've been busy with work and the stress of adult life, but I'm finding more time and inspiration to write. For anyone who's coming to this fic with patience, I'd like to thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I only proofread it once so there may be some mistakes/inconsistencies, but I hope you enjoy the chapter!


	7. Anime Movie Dinner Night

To say you had a whole day to yourself would be incorrect. It hardly counted if, in fact, you slept through most of it. After doing three am laundry, you found yourself unable to catch any sleep, to no one’s surprise but your own. You were up until noon the next day when you laid down to watch something on your phone and had an acute moment of déjà vu when you awoke to dark skies.

Thankfully, it was only eight in the evening, still on the same day, but god damn your sleep schedule had taken a serious hammer. Normally you wouldn’t be so concerned; it would even itself out in time. But now that your social life was taking a sudden spike in activity it was becoming an issue.

As you rolled over and out of bed, wide awake from sleeping nocturnally, you contemplated what you were going to do for the evening. You really only had your phone and laptop to mess around on; you hardly watched any cable. Any shows you watched were pirated from your phone’s hotspot, since Netflix was a luxury you couldn’t afford. The checks you were sent monthly were enough to cover rent, utilities, and other miscellaneous things. Then, only _then_, did you worry about food. Cable and internet seemed far too extravagant. Your only other form of entertainment was reading, not that it was bad. But sometimes, especially when you were in very sour moods, it was hard to become immersed in a book.

You decided you needed to eat something, heating a bowl of soup to satisfy your hunger. It was the most complicated thing you could make for yourself nowadays. Your stomach grumbled as you fondly remembered the slice of Toriel’s pie Papyrus had saved for you a couple of days ago… you had devoured it, not even leaving a crumb. Papyrus’s spaghetti had gone untouched a little longer, but out of guilt (and hunger), you ended up demolishing it as well. It’s not that it was _bad_, per se, just that it was so indescribable that each bite left you feeling like you were solving a puzzle, which was distracting in a meal.

Now you wished you had been more economical with your left overs, as pie and mystery spaghetti beats soup any day of the week. But beggars couldn’t be choosy.

As the thought of food hit you, specifically magical monster food, you wondered what exactly would be for dinner tomorrow. Papyrus and Undyne seemed like enthusiastic cooks, even if the spaghetti you’d eaten the day before left you more confused than anything. Sans did mention that his brother loved cooking spaghetti more than anything else, so you had an idea of what dinner would consist of. You don’t know if that _necessarily_ made you excited.

Just then, a thought occurred to you; should you be bringing food? Oh god, the most complex ingredient you had at the moment was flour, from a time when you tried to fry something to eat. It felt so long ago, and you didn’t have many reserves left to buy a meal. That and your ability to cook hadn’t been dusted off in years.

You whipped out your phone, carefully blowing on your soup, and decided to send Papyrus a text. When you opened the text box, you were almost surprised to find a message already waiting there for you. You remembered Sans mention, however, that Papyrus had tried to send you a text. You had been too busy moping and sleeping to check your phone, too afraid to initiate conversation or have it wasted upon you. You skimmed over his text, eyebrow raised at how it was in all caps, as if to convey his loud personality even through text.

‘Hey Papyrus it’s me, (Y/n)’ You started out. Well duh, who else could it be? ‘Sorry I never responded to your text, but Sans told you I’m joining you tomorrow right? I was wondering if I needed to bring any food’

Please say no. Worst case scenario, you could buy some premade chicken or something from the grocery store, but you were seriously under equipped to cook.

His reply was near instantaneous, in all caps.

‘(Y/N)! YES MY BROTHER DELIVERED THE WONDERFUL NEWS’

‘I WILL CRAFT THE FINEST FOOD FOR DINNER, SO YOU NEEDN’T WORRY ABOUT A THING! AND ALSO, MY BROTHER AND I CAN ONLY EAT MAGIC FOOD’

‘EVEN IF YOU DON’T LIKE ANIME THE FOOD WILL BE SO WONDERFUL THAT YOU WON’T WANT TO FALL ASLEEP DESPITE WATCHING CARTOONS FOR CHILDREN’

You snickered at this; you didn’t think anime was that bad. Sure, it was weird at times, but you had a few that you liked and thought of fondly.

‘I’m sure I won’t mind whatever you guys are watching’

‘I SINCERELY DOUBT THAT. THEY’RE SO CONFUSING! WHY ARE THERE GIANT ROBOTS FIGHTING? SINCE WHEN DO HUMANS HAVE CAT EARS? I AM FAR TOO SOPHISTICATED FOR ANIME!’

You smirked to yourself, learning a lot about Alphys’s anime tastes than you probably needed to.

‘Hey now, anime isn’t all cat ears and giant robots’

‘POPPYCOCK!’

‘Wow, language…’ You meant it jokingly, but Papyrus took you quite seriously, apologizing profusely for his terse language. You had to placate him, let him know you were joking, and that you didn’t think any less of him for his foul tongue. Boy, what would he think if he knew your inner monologue was a sewer-tongued sailor? You would have to take care not to curse around Papyrus, if you could remember.

‘Either way, Papyrus, anime really isn’t all giant robots and cat ears’

‘I KNOW OF THE KISSY FLOWERY SWORDSWOMEN’

‘ACTUALLY… AND YOU MUST TAKE THIS SECRET TO THE GRAVE! I DON’T MIND THE KISSY FLOWERY SWORDSWOMEN AS MUCH’

‘Wow Papyrus, and to think I had you all figured out…’

‘NYOO-HOO-HOO... PLEASE DO NOT THINK LESS OF ME! BUT I REQUIRE MY ENTERTAINMENT TO BE NUANCED! IT MUST BE RICH OF STORY AND CHARACTER! AND ANIME IS FOR SILLY CHILDREN. THE DRAMA MUST GO PAST FIGHTING WITH SWORDS’

You began to think to yourself, and decided to take a shot in the dark.

‘Are you a fan of romance, Papyrus’

Uncharacteristically, his reply took longer than usual to come.

‘MAYBE. IT IS SIMPLY A CATEGORY FEW CAN RESPECT AS MUCH AS I DO! SANS TEASES ME FOR LIKING METTATON’S MOVIES SO MUCH, HE SIMPLY CANNOT GRASP ART IN ITS PUREST FORM’

You snicker into your sleeve, trying not to choke on a chunk of potato as you finish off your soup. You’re familiar with Mettaton—a few of the movies he’d made in the underground got popularized almost the moment he entered the limelight. You don’t particularly care too much about celebrities, but Mettaton was apparently the only big monster star they had.

‘There are some nuanced romance anime, Papyrus. I might even be able to think of a few movies fitting that bill’

‘(Y/N)…. DON’T TELL ME… YOU WATCH ANIME?!’

‘I occasionally dabble.’

‘BECAUSE I VALUE OUR FRIENDSHIP SO MUCH I AM WILLING TO OVERLOOK THIS HUGE CHARACTER FLAW. HOWEVER! I HIGHLY DOUBT ANY CARTOON MOVIE CAN FIT MY RIGOROUS STANDARDS.’

You’re already standing up, walking up to your bedroom as your typing your reply.

‘Well, would you be willing to put it to the test? We’re already watching an anime movie, if you don’t like mine, it’s nothing lost’

‘NYEH-HEH-HEH! YOU MAKE AN EXCELLENT ARGUMENT! I SHALL INFORM UNDYNE THAT YOU WILL BE PROVIDING THE ENTERTAINMENT FOR TOMORROW. I DO HOPE TO BE THOROUGHLY ENTERTAINED’

You set your phone down, opening your closet. There, collecting dust, was a small dvd collection; a collection of disks you’d had since you were in middle school, practically worshipped. They were mostly Studio Ghibli films, stories that always felt so poignant and wistful, and that you’d always felt so nerdy for enjoying. But if Papyrus was really a fan of romance, one movie spoke to you in particular. You fished out the case for Howl’s Moving Castle, opening it and inspecting the disk. It still looked pristine, as you hardly watched the moves anymore, but you popped it into your laptop anyway to make sure nothing was wrong with it.

Part of you was horribly nervous but… even though Papyrus had a great disdain for anime, perhaps it was because he’d never seen a Ghibli movie. Those things changed people.

You were fairly skittish person. The idea of acting outside the realm of familiarity scared you… but something told you, even if he didn’t like the movie, you’d still enjoy spending time at dinner. Everyone was so friendly, and despite Papyrus’s brash demeanor, he seemed quite patient with you.

That nagging voice that had always been there wanted to speak up. It wanted you to be careful, not get too attached. But lately, it was becoming less insistent, after being proven wrong time and time again. You found it easier to ignore. It would never completely leave; you were still a slave to your inhibitions, you knew this too well. But for the first time in a long time, you found yourself looking forward to a social event.

You felt a bit more sluggish after eating the soup—it was nice and warm, and made you want to laze about. After a couple of hours spent on your phone and laptop, you surprised yourself by falling asleep around midnight instead of spending the rest of the night awake.

\- - -

When you wake up, you have a feeling that it’s still early. You tap your phone and see that yes, it’s ten o’clock in the morning. You were back on track! Granted this was a little too early for your tastes, you were happy to break away from a disadvantageous nocturnal pattern. You dozed on and off for a couple of hours before a buzz on your phone, like clockwork, woke you up.

‘psst’

‘hey kid.’

‘ya like memes?’

A huge grin broke out on your face as you rolled over to answer your phone.

‘Sans you’re a pretty good friend, but I’m going to be blunt with you; that’s a dumb question’

‘I’m a depressed college-aged millennial who lives alone. Of course I love memes’

You thought you were perhaps being a little too forward, but that fear was banished when Sans messaged you an image.

“Oh god…” You said out loud, smiling despite your shocked horror. You were expecting a meme from this decade, not one from a bygone era.

‘Sans that meme was popular when I was in elementary school. NO ONE USES THE SUCCESS BABY ANY MORE’

‘what are you kidding me’

‘this is hilarious shut up’

‘I’m literally dying where did you find this thing?’

You knew for certain you didn’t have any memes this dusty saved on your phone, so you quickly searched up one of your old favorites while he responded—the guy spitting out his cereal. There were so many to choose from, so you ended up sending several variations.

‘ok that’s fuckin’ hilarious’

‘it’s perfect’

‘look at this tho’

The morning would then turn into you swapping crappy dated memes for at least another thirty minutes. Eventually, you told yourself, you’d have to introduce him to the modern world of memeing; assuming he didn’t already know and was just yanking your chain.

You were glad to have the morning ritual of trading crappy and awful jokes with Sans up and running again. It made it easier to get out bed somehow; the line of thought was that you were already awake from giggling at your phone for nearly an hour, you may as well roll over and try and be at least slightly productive. Plus, laughter managed to get you into a decent enough mood.

…Were the days always this long, though? It felt like you were actively waiting for time to decide to move in a linear way, begging for at least four o’clock to come around. But every time you checked your phone after doing something, it was only ten minutes that had gone by. Yet every other time, it felt like the days were slipping through your fingertips, unable to be stopped. Why did this sort of thing only happen when you were looking forward to something?

After brushing your teeth and finishing a shower, you looked to time once more. One-thirty. Surely the universe was playing some sort of cruel trick on you. 

The thought of taking a nap had occurred to you on more than one occasion, but you dismissed it every time. You were afraid of sleeping through phone calls and texts; though you were usually a naptime guru, you also didn’t want to louse up your carefully fixed sleep schedule. You had touted yourself proudly to Sans the other night, but if any nap connoisseurs saw you now they would be rolling over in their beds.

When three-thirty rolled around, you were on your laptop from your phone’s hotspot, a sudden urge to watch something taking over. You’d spent an hour earlier looking for your keys—not just for your apartment but for your bike. It’d been ages since you got out driving, mostly because you opted for things within walking or bus distance. Bus fare was far cheaper than gas, as well. Besides, you didn’t need to hit up the big grocery chains, the local dollar store provided more than enough for you to eat. Packs of ramen, soup, cereal, and if you were feeling adventurous some juice, were all a dollar. The name brands just weren’t worth it.

Finally, your blissful wait was at an end. It was ten to six when you heard a loud knock at your door. You jumped at the noise, too used to knocking on your door meaning only bad things, but you reigned yourself in as you got up.

“I’m coming!” You called out, grabbing your hoodie and slipping into your shoes. You double checked that you had everything—the DVD, your keys, your phone… once it seemed like you were all set, you opened the door, remembering to undo the chain lock this time.

“The time of dinner night is upon us, (Y/n)! Are you prepared?” Papyrus greeted you the moment you opened the door.

“_Anime movie_ dinner night.” Sans corrected, smiling something fierce as Papyrus made an exaggerated eye (socket) rolling motion.

“Same thing! More importantly, are you bringing this fabled not childish and not giant cat robot movie?”

“Wow, Papyrus, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re excited to see this movie.” You teased, hiding the DVD case under your arm.

“Fortunately, you do know better. I merely have my expectations raised particularly high.”

“You sure know how to put the pressure on.” You were constantly wondering how the themes of the movie might translate well with monster culture. Sure, most human movies weren’t made with the idea of a second race of people emerging in mind, but you liked to think that most Ghibli movies survived the test of time pretty well.

“Let’s go, we shouldn’t keep everyone waiting. Oh, woopsies, I nearly forgot. Did you want to ride with us, (Y/n)?”

Before you could answer, Sans piped up.

“Hey bro, remind me again why we need to drive when I know a _way_ easier shortcut…” He mumbled it, sounded uncharacteristically grumpy. Papyrus pointed an exasperated look his way.

“Because, brother, I have a car and the car is meant to be driven around!”

“But you won’t even let me hop on _my_ wheels.”

“I have told you a million times; I refuse to be seen with you in public when you ride your three-wheeled device meant for small children.”

Gears began turning in your head as you wondered… wait, was he referencing a tricycle? You didn’t have enough time to ask, however, as Papyrus was ushering the two of you towards the elevator.

“No time to dawdle, you two. To the vehicle shed!” He was already pushing the elevator button excitedly. You didn’t even bothering correcting him, to tell that him it’s called a garage. Besides, vehicle shed had a nice ring to it.

“Relax, Paps, the anime’s not going anywhere.” Sans said.

“Silly brother, the anime isn’t the point of anime movie dinner night.”

“Fair point.”

Papyrus tsk-tsked as you all stepped into the elevator. He hit the button for the garage, and the lift began its slow descent.

“All is forgiven, brother. This is, after all, your first time coming after declining every other time. What made you change your mind?”

“Eh, guess I had a change of heart. And nothing better to do.”

“Nonsense! You value your shut eye above else.”

“I’m a complicated skeleton, bro. Besides, seems I lucked out if (Y/n) is the one bringing the stuff. Uh, just so I have a heads up though,” Right as the door for the elevator opened, Sans leveled you suddenly with a concerned expression. “You’re not into giant kissing robots _too_, are you?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You blinked in surprise. “The robots in these anime _kiss_? Papyrus, you neglected to mention that part.”

Papyrus let out a deep sigh as he stepped out of the elevator, his tall physique sagging. “Yes. Occasionally, the cartoon robots kiss. I do not understand why.”

You laughed into your fist, honestly just shocked at how much you were missing out on. And to think, you thought you’d heard it all.

“Cartoon talk aside, (Y/n)! You never answered my question. Would like to cruise in my sick hotrod?!”

Papyrus quickly strode over to one end of the garage. You were shocked when a shiny red car graced your view. It was a convertible, and though it didn’t look to be a modern make, it was certainly well-cared for, with a glossy sheen and polished tires. Papyrus struck a pose in front of the car, his cape seeming to pick up in nonexistent wind.

“Impressed? Once the humans allowed me to get my license to drive, I got the car of my dreams. You know, before gold stopped being an acceptable form of currency.”

“That’s amazing Papyrus, good on you.” Smiled up on him, glancing back at his car as you were reminded what happened about a month and a half after the barrier broke. It seemed things had been going smoothly, and despite the many riots from conservative bigots around the world, most humans were accepting of monsters with open arms, happy to welcome them into society. And then, unceremoniously, the economy was flooded with a steady and seemingly endless stream of gold. The price of gold plummeted to near hilarious lows, but all of that seemed trivial in light of the barrier being broken, at least in your eyes. Of course, many greasy and callous politicians used this as an angle to hinder monster rights. Eventually, monster-minted gold coins stopped being accepted, now being reduced solely to collector’s items, but in exchange monsters were permitted to have jobs and earn money. It was illegal to melt monster coins, just like with normal coins, but you doubted anyone wanted to, what with how the price of gold had hit the floor.

“It seems more economical to ride with you, but I also have my own ride…” You had no issue riding alongside Papyrus—actually it sounded kind of fun to ride in something so glamourous. But something else was calling your name.

“You have a car as well? May I see it?” Papyrus got visibly excited, and you felt yourself flush with embarrassment.

“It’s nothing special, just my dusty old bike.” You fished out your keys, looking to the opposite end of the line of cars.

“A bicycle? But a car would be much faster! Unless… ooh! I didn’t realize your legs were so strong. What is your training regimen?” Papyrus put a hand to his chin, eye sockets narrowed in thought as he looked at your legs. You felt flustered over having your legs under scrutiny, but wanted to laugh at the misunderstanding regardless.

“You’re gonna need at _least_ one more wheel to keep up with my bro’s driving.” Sans commented. You didn’t miss the fact that he took the opportunity to ogle your legs alongside his brother.

“No, you two, it isn’t a _bicycle_.” You covered your mouth as you threw them an exasperated smirk over your shoulder. You walked to the other end of the line of cars, to your sister’s old bike, and lifted the tarp up to reveal it. It hadn’t collected much dust, thanks to the covering, but you still can’t remember the last time you rode it anywhere. You just never had a reason to.

“Wh-_WHOA_!”

You turned around at the sudden outburst to see Papyrus’s eye sockets were widened in shock, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

“(Y/n), jeez, save some cool for the rest of us, no need to _hog_ it all for yourself.” Sans joined his brother’s side, looking over at your sister’s—no, _your_ bike—with no small amount of awe.

“Th-This old thing? It’s old as dirt, probably older than me, and just barely runs. Still… Still though! It’s not that I wouldn’t love to ride with you Papyrus, it’s just, for some reason, I’m kind of in the mood to ride it.”

“You needn’t explain yourself! As a fellow owner of sweet rides, I know the temptation all too well. Just follow me to Undyne’s, then.”

You nod your approval, unlocking your helmet from the bike as Papyrus got into his car. You noticed offhand that Sans was still standing next to you as your straddled the motorcycle.

“You, uh, take passengers?” He asked, and you paused.

“No, I’ve never ridden with another person. And besides, it would be a little too close for comfort, since they would have to hold on… The other person would have to touch me and all.” You explained, growing bashful at the idea.

“Oh. Right. Should’ve probably figured that.” Sans shrugged noncommittally as he turned, giving you one last sidelong glance.

“Sans, get over here already! No beating us there while our backs are turned.” Papyrus called out to his brother, but you barely registered his voice as it finally clicked with you.

Oh.

Sans was probably leading up to… he wasn’t going to ask to ride with _you_, was he?

_He’s already seen you cry more times than you’d like to admit, what’s there to be bashful about, _that bitter voice reminded you. But suddenly, the image of him behind you on the motorcycle, arms around your waist, and pressed closer than anyone had been before snuck into your mind.

You shoved the helmet on your head roughly as your face began to heat. What was that thought? Who had that thought; certainly not _you_. You were just… nervous at the idea of having to subject anyone to the full brunt of your powers. Yeah. That’s it. You smacked the front of your helmet, trying to dispel your embarrassing thoughts and keep everything under reigns, when you heard a voice call out.

“Are you ready, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah! Lead the way.” You were snapped out of your thoughts by Papyrus voice. Without realizing it, he had already positioned his car just at the gates of the garage. You shoved your key into the ignition, sending a little thankful prayer when your bike roared to life. You didn’t have the money to fix it if it broke down, but thankfully, it had survived the five years since you inherited it from your sister with no more than a few mishaps. You backed out of your parking space, and motioned to Papyrus that you would follow him.

Once the garage gate was open, the two vehicles were on the road. Your heart skipped a beat once you made the initial turn onto asphalt, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. You felt a little excited. You didn’t drive fast; you kept pace with Papyrus, though he was a… swift driver. It came with the territory of being fresh on the road, you supposed, though he didn’t drive with any inhibitions. You had your license ever since you were old enough, near the end of your junior year in high school. After you got your license to drive, it was your sister who convinced you to learn how to ride a motorcycle. You thought it was the coolest thing on earth, having the wind fly by you and feeling like the fastest thing on the world.

Sure, you were a pretty timid driver—you’d heard horror stories on the internet, and your sister always bragged about the close calls she had. But there was nothing comparable to this experience, save for maybe flying through the air like a superhero.

_“One day, when both of us have bikes,” She’d said to you after you got your picture taken. “We’ll ride out past the mountains to some remote place. Hell, maybe even hike up ‘em. We could camp on the mountain, wait until it’s dark, and then—”_

_“Have you lost your mind?” You had cut her off, eyebrows raised. “That sounds like a great way to go missing in the night.”_

_She had laughed at you, elbowing you in the ribs._

_“No, dumbass, that’s where all the stars are. I’ve always wanted to see the stars not being blocked out by the city lights. Haven’t you?”_

_“I never really gave it much thought.” You had shrugged her off. “Who cares if it’s a few more stars than usual?”_

_“I cannot _believe_ we even share blood. My own sibling, unappreciative of the stars… Sure, you say that now, but just wait until you’ve seen the Milky Way and every constellation in the sky clear as a textbook. That’s it, I’ve decided it! We’re going on a road trip the moment you graduate.”_

_“A couple of nights in the wilderness, only on bikes, probably hopping from motel to motel… Sounds fun!”_

_“It will be! You’ll thank me once we’re out there. The moment you take off that cap and gown, we are outta here baby.”_

Liar.

She never even made it to your graduation.

Undyne’s place was a neat little drive out. You had no trouble following Papyrus, but the suburbs were starting to look busier as you drove. Twenty minutes later, and you were near Ebott University, just shy enough of Denver to be considered behind Ebott lines. Eventually, Papyrus pulled into an open parking lot sidled up next to a row of apartment buildings. They were squat and square, tan, and just slightly smaller than your lofts; the kind built next to colleges and universities for those that could afford not to live in the dorms.

“We’re here!” Papyrus announced as he pulled into his parking space. You took your helmet off, looking up to the building as the two of them got out of their car.

“Driving is always such a hoot! I love how I am required to solve little puzzles in order to progress on the road.” Papyrus hummed to himself as he got out of the car.

“You mean the traffic lights?” Sans asked amusedly as he got out himself.

“The lights! The signs, the other cars, and the lines of the road—all expertly designed puzzles meant to test the attentive driver. I was worried humans wouldn’t love puzzles as much as I do, but I see these fears were for naught. You need critical thinking just to travel.”

You wanted to correct him and say that traffic lights and stop signs weren’t meant to be puzzles, but the more you thought about it the more you realized he was not far off from the truth. As many times as you’ve had to slam on the brakes from some inattentive driver, or someone tried to merge into your physical body without blinkers, Papyrus was actually spot on—driving was an enigma. The people on the road could be puzzling at times, that was certainly one way to look at it. And besides, who would you be to rain on his parade?

“This will be the best anime movie dinner night you’ll ever experience. So far! You’ll love it so much you’ll want to attend every night. Would you like to participate in the best part?”

You locked your helmet to your bike as you removed your key before gracing Papyrus with a quizzical look.

“The anime?” You asked.

“No, not the anime. The dinner, or more specifically, preparation of said dinner. I bet you can’t guess what artisan, hand-crafted, and most likely Italian dish will be prepared tonight.”

You put a hand to your chin, pretending to look around in thought. You made eye contact with Sans for a moment, and he winked your way.

“Pizza?” You offered, snapping your fingers.

“Incorrect! Please try again.” Papyrus shook his head, crossing his arms.

“Hmm… Caesar Salad?”

“Now you’re insulting me!”

“Pasta pesto?”

“Y… So tantalizingly close!”

“Well, I know it can’t possibly be spaghetti—”

Papyrus jumped several feet in the air in excitement, causing you to jump as well, but out of shock.

“But it is the very dish! Nyeh-heh-heh, let’s not boondoggle out here, the festivities wait inside.”

Papyrus ran off towards the front of the building, wasting no time. You paused, however, looking back up—not to the buildings, but to the sky. You didn’t get a chance to stare while you were driving, but the moon was out, and you can’t recall the last time you had a chance to see it.

It was cold out, but it was a cloudless night—and a full moon. It’s true, you didn’t think much of a beautiful starry night sky, but now, you always wondered what it would look like—with and without the full moon in sight.

“I never get tired of this view.”

You looked over, not surprised to see Sans standing next to you. He was looking up at the moon as well, eyelights fixated on it. You looked back up at the moon; it was a sight you’d become too accustomed to, and yet was fresh and new to the lives of many monsters. With perspective in mind, and how focused Sans seemed upon the silver disk, you can’t help but feel you’d taken such a beautiful thing for granted.

“You know… when I was younger, I fantasized about riding out some where remote. The moon is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but on a new moon with no city lights, you’re supposed to be able to see every star in the sky, even the Milky Way.”

“Great minds think alike…” Sans said, and you could see out of the corner of your eye that he’d turned to look at you, though you kept your gaze up. “Though I guess I don’t have an excuse for getting out there already, other than my own laziness.”

“Can’t you, like, teleport anywhere you want?” You frowned, taking your gaze off the moon to level Sans with a confused look. He huffed a small snort.

“Not anywhere; I’ll have you know I need to actually visit the place first. I’m not god. What’s your excuse?”

“For not going on a road trip? Well…” It’s not like you had a decent one, other than cash. It’s not like you were doing anything. Hell, maybe hopping on the road and disappearing into the night was exactly the thing you needed.

_It’s not like it matters anymore. Seeing a couple of stars won’t change anything, it won’t make you feel better, it won’t bring back—_

“Laziness too, I guess.” You forced the thought down, smothering it until you couldn’t hear it.

“What are you two doing over there? Both of you are simply standing there smiling at the sky; the festivities are inside!” Papyrus noticed the two of you hadn’t followed him to the front of the apartment and stalked over, clearly annoyed. You turned his way, about to apologize, when you noticed someone in tow.

“Do not be mad at them, Papyrus, they seem to be quite _star-struck_.” A feminine called out, followed by lilting laughter.

“Oh, Ah! Y-You know, just standing here staring at the moon; nothing too out of the ordinary.” You rubbed the back of your head, feeling like a fool, even though you truly weren’t doing anything strange. “Also, hello Toriel.”

“Hello there, (Y/n).” She returned your nervous greeting with a warm smile.

You still felt small in Toriel’s presence, but you’d gotten over the urge to bow after your first encounter. Still, though you didn’t fully realize it, she exuded a maternal air that you just weren’t accustomed to.

“Don’t tell me you’re here for the animes too?” Sans asked. Toriel waved her hand dismissively before sighing.

“Oh no, I was merely dropping Frisk off here. Even though it is quite late in the evening, I have some business to attend to.” Whatever this business was, it seemed to be less than satisfactory to Toriel. “I did however bake a casserole for you all to enjoy.”

“Ooh, goodie! Is it another snail casserole?” Papyrus asked, and you blinked in confusion. Did he just say… snail?

“No, no, not this time. Frisk has expressed great disdain at a number of my snail-based dishes, but I am not disheartened. Times have changed, and it would seem a lot of humans are not fond of snails. So I have settled for a normal vegetable and beef casserole.”

“Then we must make haste. See you later, Toriel. Let’s get those buns moving, you two.”

And he was off, walking through the parking lot.

“We’ll catch you later, Tori,” Sans said as he began to walk off in order to catch up with his brother—notably in the opposite direction.

“See you later,” You waved in her direction, casting a small smile as you said goodbye.

“I will be seeing you. Have fun watching cartoons, you two!” Toriel gave the two of you a small wave, and you watched her walk over towards an old-looking minivan, the kind you’d ascribe to a stereotypical soccer mom. You quickened your pace to catch up with Papyrus, who was already at the front of the apartment building. Papyrus was pressing a couple of buttons on the callbox, Sans already by his side. Immediately, a loud and brash voice that you recognized answered.

“Papyrus? That you?” Undyne yelled. It sounded as if she had her mouth inches from the receiver and was yelling into it. From what you gathered of her personality last time you met, it may not have been far off the mark.

“Yes!”

“Good, you’re late. Ha, just kidding, you’re right on time! Toriel just dropped Frisk not even a minute ago, and the squirt is dying to see ya. Get in here!”

The door buzzed, signaling that it was unlocked, and the group entered. Undyne seemed to live on the top floor, the third floor, and the three of you took the elevator up. Once stopped in front of the apartment door, Papyrus knocked. In a flurry of movement that had you stepping back in surprise, the door flew open and Undyne immediately took Papyrus under her arm.

“I thought we discussed noogeying the skeleton!” Papyrus complained, wincing, though he seemed half-hearted.

“NYGAAH, it’s an automatic response!” Undyne laughed before releasing him, opting to a clap a hand on his shoulder instead.

“Heya, Undyne.” You smiled at their antics, smothering a laugh with your hand. She looked up, releasing Papyrus and flashing you a cheeky grin.

“Nice??? You actually brought the hum—er, (Y/n) over. And Sans, too?”

“’Sup.”

“_’Sup _yourself. Well, don’t just stand there on our front door, get in here!”

Undyne stood back from the doorway, allowing the three of you to enter.

The apartment was decent sized, likely bigger than the bottom floor of your loft, but with the bedrooms all on one level. You all stood in a small entryway, but saw no place to put your shoes, so you elected to keep them on, for now. As you stepped further into the apartment, you noticed the posters hanging on the walls and even a couple of gigantic swords that looked like props hanging from displays on the wall. You were shocked to see that there was grand piano tucked nicely in the corner, and a door to a small but decently sized balcony. It was nice, well-decorated, and with an eclectic sense of personality already springing up.

“H-Hey, you guys made it!” Alphys sprung up from her place on the couch to greet you all with a nervous but excited smile on her face. She was about to say something, but a flash of blue and purple emerged from the hallway, and you heard Papyrus cry out.

“Nyeh! My one weakness; tiny hands!” You looked over as Papyrus laughed and saw Frisk wrapping up in a hug, smiling up at him with a huge grin.

“What’s up kiddo? Ya miss us or something?” Sans reached over to ruffle their air, much to their pouty chagrin. They let go of Papyrus to fix their hair before nodding exaggeratedly.

“Despair no longer, Frisk! For I, the Great Papyrus, have come to alleviate your sorrows. And your hunger. Now that the gang’s all here, we need to get cooking.”

Frisk turned to you, then, hands moving fluidly to ask if you were going to help them cook.

“Well, I’m not the greatest cook on earth, and I’ve never worked with magic food but… I’m always happy to help, I suppose.” You responded, instinctively signing along as you spoke. Frisk nodding enthusiastically. They assured you the experience would unforgettable. You weren’t sure you liked the sound of that.

“Don’t sweat it, punk! The thing that makes a dish delectable isn’t the skill you put in. It’s the force! A dish isn’t ready until at least something’s broken.”

“Nyeh-heh-heh, Undyne’s right. Mostly. Don’t worry if you can’t break something your first go around, not all can be as skilled as I am. If we’re lucky, the explosions will be minimal.”

“Please remember, th-the lease agreement… And plates aren’t cheap you guys!” Alphys couldn’t help but to chime in at the worrying conversation.

“Don’t sweat it babe,” Undyne scooped Alphys up, lifting the latter up bridal style to plop her back down on the couch. “The apartment hasn’t burned down yet, and the explosions haven’t been _that_ bad. We’ll go easy on the pasta.”

Alphys seemed to eye Undyne hesitantly, before sighing reluctantly.

“Oh, alright. Just remember to load the dishwasher this time. And don’t spill Toriel’s casserole, it looks good!”

“Whoo, yes! Let’s get cooking. You, you, and you, get in here now.” Undyne let out a whoop before pointing out yourself, Papyrus, and Frisk. Papyrus saluted valiantly before scooping Frisk up under his arm and taking off for the kitchen. You smiled amusedly at their antics as you shrugged off your hoodie and it set it down, alongside the DVD, before making your way to the kitchen.

What ensued would probably be the most dramatic, if not action-packed, method of making spaghetti. Turns out everything you knew about pasta making before was a lie.

Undyne did things to the extreme with no holds barred. Something as simple as putting a pot on to boil was giving you an adrenaline rush with a healthy amount of anxiety coursing through you. Occasionally, Alphys and Sans would wander over to watch the cooking ensue. Alphys’s expressions were a mixture of concern and curiosity, whilst Sans was purely amused by the spectacle. Undyne had mentioned something about fire magic being forbidden in the apartment complex as she turned the stove up to its highest setting. When she wasn’t looking, Frisk turned it down to a reasonable setting.

Every once in a while Sans would ask Undyne to substitute the entire spaghetti sauce mixture for ketchup and she’d glare daggers at him.

At one point, you saw Frisk petting a tomato before attempting to crack it into a bowl like one might crack an egg. It was a huge mess.

By the time the noodles were done and the sauce was finished boiling, the kitchen looked as if someone tried to murder the main dish.

“Can’t you feel your heart singing! You can’t tell me that wasn’t exhilarating, (Y/n).” Undyne wiped sweat, alongside spaghetti sauce, from her brow as she turned to you with a toothy grin.

“That was… something.” You said, looking down at your stained clothing. Your favorite shirt, which read “Warning: Contents under pressure” was now stained in the blood of tomatoes. And you just washed it, too! Frisk and Papyrus, obviously veterans to this whole fiasco, wore aprons. You were the greenhorn new recruit who came in to the slaughterhouse practically naked, in freshly washed clothing.

“You’re darn right it was something!” Undyne was preparing plates, quickly scooping heaping servings of spaghetti and casserole onto everyone’s plate. There was enough to go around, and then some left on the stove, as you all had made enough to feed an army. “Now comes the best part—chowing down on grub while we watch an intense, dramatic, action-packed anime.”

“Well, I don’t know about the action part.” You responded sheepishly.

“Right, what’s this movie about anime? Does anyone die? Are there any intense sword fights? No, wait, don’t say a word. I want to see for myself.”

Holding your bowl of spaghetti, you gulped as Undyne vaulted the island counter into the living room. You had been so concerned picking out a movie that Papyrus would like that you hadn’t even considered everyone else’s tastes… God what, if everyone hated the movie? It shouldn’t matter, right—you were pretty sure Sans and Papyrus didn’t give a rat’s ass about anime, and besides, this night was mostly about the friendship and comradery, right?

The friendship and comradery that… was being shared with you.

You stared down at your bowl of food like it held the secrets of the universe—or, more importantly, the secret of what on earth you were doing here. Your inhibitions suddenly bubbled up, and you felt a well of nervousness spring up out of nowhere. But you kept it all down, kept it in check. You didn’t want this to be ruined—not yet. You could let these good times last just a little bit longer.

_Enjoy it while it lasts. _That bitter voice, your conscience—your very experience with the world—spoke up.

Maybe you would.

_They’ll get frustrated with you eventually—they’ll be too wary, too tired of the whole shy nervous-wreck shtick. It gets old eventually._

That’s nothing new.

_He only invited you to be nice. They all feel sorry for you._

It’s the same old song and dance.

_You should just—_

“YO! (Y/N)! I get the pasta’s a masterpiece, but are you going to come in here and put on the DVD, or are we going to have to start without you?”

Undyne called out, snapping you from your thoughts with a startled jump.

“Here I come—”

You walked briskly into the living room, setting down your bowl of spaghetti to grab the DVD. It wasn’t on the coffee table where you left it, but it didn’t go far; Frisk was standing up, holding the DVD and reading the back with rapt interest. When they noticed you approach, they looked up, handing over the DVD case.

‘_I remember watching this. Before._’ Frisk signed, a strange look coming across their features, one that you immediately knew the name of: nostalgia.

“Before what?” You asked, and their gaze snapped up to you, a look of surprise coming over. They seemed to think about it for a bit before shrugging.

‘_When I was a kid_.’ They signed, carefully.

“What? You still _are_ a kid.” You pointed out, and they stuck their tongue out at you before running over to plop down on the couch.

You popped open the DVD and loaded it into the player. It took you a few minutes to skip past the movie previews and get to the main menu. When you did, you were greeted by the familiar sight of Howl and Sophie standing in front of the titular moving castle, and you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you as well. It’s been a while since you watched this movie, hasn’t it?

Getting up to take a seat, you noticed your available options: Undyne and Alphys were at the three-seater, pressed shoulder to shoulder as they ate their spaghetti. Frisk sat next to them, eating tentatively. On one side, there was a single living chair, and Papyrus sat contentedly, waiting for the movie to start before eating. On the other side, there was a loveseat, and Sans was relaxing as he watched the screen, waiting like everyone else. His gaze came to rest upon you when he noticed your hesitation. Averting your gaze, you went to go sit next to him, but you noticed a little late that his arm was slung over the back of the loveseat. Still, you sat down; it’s not like he was touching you—hell, he was hardly even in your bubble. Then why were you feeling sudden apprehension well up within you? Would asking him to move his arm be rude? Could he feel the edge of your emotions, your barrier, with his arm so close? You hoped you weren’t being too distracting. Damn it, you were over thinking this.

Oh.

It’s starting.

\- - -

Sans had never been a big TV watcher back underground. There was only one channel, and it was all episodes and reruns of Mettaton’s shows and movies. Papyrus went crazy for that kind of thing, spending most of his free time watching it, but Sans considered it background noise for when he wanted to take a nap on the couch. Most of the human relics of pop culture that washed down were usually too battered to be salvaged, but there was also the occasional Saturday morning cartoon. Oddly enough, one of the few things that survived as well was anime, but hardly anyone wanted to sift through tons of trash just to find one disk of an anime that might be too waterlogged to watch.

Of the things he did managed to catch of human entertainment, he liked watching Sci-Fi, and occasionally fantasy. Now that they were on the surface, it was readily available, and human media was no longer a reminder of what could never be.

He didn’t have an opinion on anime—well, he thought it was kind of silly, but he didn’t hold it in as much disdain as his brother. It was a pleasant surprise, however, when he saw that the characters didn’t have wildly exaggerated proportions or huge eyes, or act in an overly dramatic and annoying manner. It was like watching a normal movie, except it was animated.

Sans didn’t miss the fact that you hesitated for a brief moment before sitting down, but once the movie started everyone was silent, including the usual noisemakers. The only noise in the room was the sound of the movie and people eating, with the occasional gasp or laugh, or even shocked cry, at the events of the movie. Sans had a bowl of spaghetti of his own, topped off with a healthy heap of ketchup from a few packets he’d snagged from a drawer in Undyne’s kitchen. Though the movie wasn’t bad—it was enjoyable, actually—what he found even more entertaining was your reactions. You always wore your heart, more realistically your soul, on your very sleeve, and Sans was quite good at reading expressions. It was obvious you _loved_ this movie, even though you tried to seem casual about it earlier, and that simple fact was something endearing to him.

In no time at all, almost two hours had passed, and the end credits were rolling to the backdrop of a lovely, flowery scene.

There was a sniffle.

“Undyne are you… Crying?” Papyrus asked, though he didn’t seem to be doing any better.

“No! I don’t cry; I’m too tough! I eat rocks for breakfast, I suplex buildings as a hobby! I just… have a scale in my eye.” Undyne sniffed loudly, rubbing insistently at her face.

“Oh, okay, I can’t tell because I have _tears_ in _my_ eyes.” Papyrus let out a soft Nyoo-hoo-hoo as he wiped away the aforementioned tears. “The drama! The romance! The _turnips!_ I never knew anime had such substance.”

“I’ve been telling you this for months, Papyrus.” Undyne countered.

“Of course you have, but I didn’t believe it until now.”

“That was so b-beautiful.” Alphys’s voice was small and wavering as she went to clean her fogged up glasses. She began ranting about the movie, fully tangential in a way only true nerds could master. As she spoke, Sans turned his attention to you, unsurprised to see you looked quite content with yourself.

“You know, this studio makes other movies like this.” You chimed in, and Undyne nearly crushed the empty bowl she was holding.

“Really? Don’t say sike; you have to bring another next time.” Undyne leaned over from her seat, pointing a finger towards you.

“Next time?” You asked, seeming like you were unsure.

“Next time! You must absolutely attend the next anime movie dinner night and supply the movie. It is decided.” Papyrus stated matter-of-factly.

“Well I kind feel like… you know, I wouldn’t to overstep my boundaries.” You were hesitant to accept the invitation, even though Papyrus hadn’t worded it like one. Sans decided to butt in.

“No point trying to weasel out now; you’ve got my poor brother addicted to anime. Gotta take responsibility now. You kinda _have_ to be the supplier.”

“Addicted? Me? I merely recognize quality cinema when I come across it, regardless of whether or not the genre was meant for small children.”

“One of us! _One of us!_” Undyne had gotten up to collect everyone’s dishes, but had taken to balancing them in one arm as she ran over to hassle Papyrus.

Sans couldn’t help the smile as his brother loudly voiced his complaints, though he could tell Papyrus was having fun with the rough housing. He was expecting Alphys to chide or goad on Undyne, but to his surprise she looked to the two of them before getting up from her seat at the couch.

“H-Hey, Sans, do you mind if I talk with you for a bit?” Alphys asked.

“Sure. Something the matter?” He asked as he stood up. Though she hadn’t lost the previous jovial aura, whatever it was seemed serious.

“Nothing bad, I swear.” She gestured to balcony. Sans took a look back at his brother and saw that Frisk had joined the two of them, piled on top of them in a giggle mess, and you were preoccupied laughing at the shenanigans. Then, he looked back to Alphys. Truth be told, she was a naturally nervous person which made her difficult to read, but ever since they’d arrived on the surface she seemed much more relaxed, even stammering a lot less than usual. It’s no surprise, though; coming clean about the lab and getting fired likely lifted a huge burden from her shoulders, even if the events that took place could never be undone. Whereas she became a nervous mess when mistakes were made, Sans… well, he reacted to stress a bit differently.

“Alright then.”

He followed her out to the balcony, and she wasted no time going into what she wanted to discuss.

“I got a letter recently; the government will finally let us submit the patent for the core. W-We can finally gain a steady foothold. If… If this patent goes through—and I just know that it will—humans could finally accept us once and for all. Once they see the ramifications of magical energy, and how efficient it is, it’ll all be in the bag.”

It was such an optimistic outlook. It was so out of place; the old Alphys wouldn’t have even bothered to push this hard. Sans smiled, but it was mostly dry and sardonic; even Alphys could make a positive come around like this, yet he still couldn’t find it in himself to think positive about any of this.

“Sounds great. Good luck with that.”

“W-Wait!” Alphys called out, stopping him as he was poised to walk back inside. “When it comes time, I thought it was only right that… I figured that it would only make sense if _you_ were the one to submit the patent.”

“Why?” He felt himself tense up.

“Well I wasn’t the one who made the core, and Asgore and Toriel agreed it should be former royal scientist who submits the patent, but…”

“Yeah? And I was never a royal scientist. You should be the one to submit this thing, not me. You’re the one with the _powerful_ enthusiasm right now.” His words were turning terse, and his usual jovial demeanor was all but gone now. He hated how everyone got when they brought this up. How blatant it was, and how he was the only one who could see it.

“This is no laughing matter! I know, but you were close to the old royal scientist, right? He—or, uh she? I can’t remember them too well, or at all really, but I do remember our old research on the barrier! I don’t want to take credit for something I didn’t create, but I remember how invested you were in our old research, even if it ended up being a bust. I never worked on the core, but you talk about the old royal scientist like you knew them well, even if neither one of us can remember what they looked like. And it’s not just that; this could be the opportunity you need! Not just because you’ll be set for life, but also to get back into magical engineering with me. And, h-hey! I know you turned down that job at the university, but this could be the thing that does it if Denver isn’t your thing.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me, Alphys Warms me right down to the _core_. Really, I just don’t know what to say. But I’m gonna have to pass on this one. You tell me how that patent comes along, I’m all ears.”

Every word she spoke was like needles pressing down on his bones. They were grim reminders, or rather, a bold reassurance that he wasn’t going out of his mind. She couldn’t even remember the name of the old royal scientist. Not that Sans was any better—but he was the only one who questioned it.

Why did everyone so readily accept that there was a royal scientist whose name and face eluded them? How could they accept that something as base as their gender was easily forgotten? Why did he feel like knew this person so well—that he should be devastated that they were gone?

Not even Sans was completely sure what happened that fateful day. Just the flash of light, and they were on the floor in front of the machine, with nothing seemingly out of order.

But something was wrong. All the signs pointed towards something being very, _very_ wrong.

“Still, it wouldn’t be right, I-I only know how the thing functions. I didn’t build it and—”

“How about this, then?” Sans turned to completely face Alphys, trying to not let his irritation show through too much. “Consider this me officially passing on the rights to use the patent. Woosh. It’s yours now; go crazy.”

“You aren’t taking this _seriously_.” Alphys frowned as Sans made a ‘wooshing’ motion with his hand, twinkling his fingers.

“Hi, I’m Sans. We must not have met.” He then extended his hand for her to take, but she remained unamused.

“With the money you could make from this patent, you and your brother won’t have to worry about anything. _Ever_.” Her voice was confident and unwavering. Still, he brushed it off.

“We’re fine for right now. Just submit the patent for me, would ya?” He shrugged, hoping to end it there. Alphys sighed, giving Sans one last exasperated glance as she pushed up her glasses.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be that way! But, there’s still a p-place in the lab for you, down at the university. If you ever change your mind, you know.”

“Thanks.”

He meant it; really, he did. But those charts and the data they presented still haunted him; readings and findings that should have been impossible; a void in his memories, and those all around him; and clues that were more horrific than reassuring. He couldn’t risk it, but he also didn’t know what to do anymore. It felt like he’d already exhausted every option long ago. But giving up felt like the lazy way out.

Alphys went back inside, but Sans lingered on the balcony with the full moon as his companion.

He looked back to the doorway, a thought occurring to him as he decided what to do next. Surely his brother wouldn’t mind if he went on a little walk. Just to clear his head, just to see if he could do anything different with the device this time around. That’s what went through his head as his sockets went dark, before a flash of blue lit up his left eye socket, and the air shifted as he teleported.


End file.
